


Toss A Child To Your Witcher...

by Rose_SK



Series: Toss A Child To Your Witcher Mini Ficlets [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, mention of prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22201129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_SK/pseuds/Rose_SK
Summary: On one of their travels, Geralt and Jaskier find an abandoned child.Jaskier takes it upon himself to find her a loving home. It sounds simple enough, right?Geralt should have known that things are never as simple as they seem, especially where Jaskier is involved.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Toss A Child To Your Witcher Mini Ficlets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625245
Comments: 97
Kudos: 1151
Collections: And Suddenly: A Child, Angsty Angst Times, Finished Fics I Love





	1. Unexpected Meetings

The ground squelched under the weight of Roach as she walked through the muddy forest. The air was crisp and still smelt of rain. The sky still appeared dark and menacing, but at least they had been given a respite from the pouring rain. Geralt was aware of his surroundings, but his witcher senses had not picked up anything dangerous since the ghoul he had killed several days ago. Jaskier was following him on foot, cursing under his breath as he tripped over his own feet. Geralt glanced over his shoulder at the bard, raising a silver eyebrow as he listened to Jaskier complain about the mud sticking to his clothes and caking his shoes. Geralt did not even bother to hide his amused smirk.

“I told you to not drag your feet, Jaskier,” Geralt said before focusing his gaze on the road again. Although he had turned his back on the bard, he was convinced that Jaskier was making faces at him. 

“I wouldn’t have to drag my feet if your highness would be so gracious and let me ride on his noble steed… you know, a gentleman would’ve willingly offered their tired lover a shot of the horse…,” Jaskier remarked, and Geralt could tell he was trying his very best not to whine. 

“I am no gentleman.”

“Tell me about it,” Jaskier picked up the pace until he managed to catch up with Roach, “are we close to a village? We haven’t slept in a warm bed in days.”

“I don’t recall you complaining about the cold the past couple of nights. I thought I did a good job at keeping you warm…”

“You know I love using your body as my personal blanket, but nothing beats the comfort of an actual bed. I would enjoy the sex a hundred times more if I didn’t have to worry about the ants in my hair and the spiders crawling all over my body…” 

Jaskier shuddered at the memory. Geralt merely rolled his eyes at his lover’s words, deciding to keep his sarcastic response to himself. Jaskier was cranky as a result of being on the road for days on end. Geralt knew that the bard had been accustomed to a certain lifestyle growing up, and sleeping on the cold wet ground had not been part of it. An uncomfortable Jaskier was a cranky Jaskier, and although Geralt prided himself on his patience, he was not immune to the discomforts of the road either and the bard’s complaints only added to his irritation.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Jaskier, but I have slept in beds that were home to all kinds of pests. Don’t think that an inn will protect you from a spider attack.”

“Oh yeah, very charming. Don’t be surprised if the next time you’re in the mood for sex I suddenly develop a headache.”

Geralt was not worried about that, because he had learned a long time ago that Jaskier was often all bark and no bite. Also, Geralt knew exactly where to touch and kiss Jaskier to turn him into a whimpering mess begging to be claimed. So no, the witcher was not worried that the bard would make good on his threat; in fact, he almost counted on it. Sex with Jaskier was always sweeter when he made Geralt work for it. The thought of Jaskier’s naked body squirming under his ministrations was interrupted when the witcher picked up on a faint sound coming from the woods. 

“Hey, did you hear that?” Jaskier asked as he came to a sudden halt. Geralt pulled on Roach’s reigns bringing the horse to a halt and used his enhanced senses to locate the noise again. It did not take long for his sensitive ears to hear it again – it sounded like the cry of a distressed child. 

“Stay here with Roach,” Geralt ordered the bard before jumping off Roach and reaching behind him to unsheathe his sword. The witcher ignored Jaskier’s protests and followed the noise, his senses on high alert. Geralt had learned quickly that if he wanted Jaskier to stay out of dangerous situations, it was always best to leave him in charge of Roach. If the bard thought that by staying back he could be useful to Geralt, he was more likely to listen to the witcher’s orders. For Geralt, this meant on the one hand that if anything happened to him Roach would be taken care of, and that Jaskier would be safe. 

The wailing noise grew louder and louder the further Geralt wandered into the woods. He sincerely hoped that he was not being lured into a trap. Some monsters had developed highly sophisticated calls that were designed to attract their prey and lull them into a false sense of security. Geralt had seen it all, which is why he clung more tightly onto his sword as the noise intensified. He was surprised to find that the wailing came from inside a massive tree just off the dirt track. Looking down, he noticed a small basket nestled in the nook of the tree. Twigs, branches and foliage strategically covered the basket and hid it from prying eyes. 

“What the fuck…,” Geralt muttered under his breath as he knelt on the wet ground. His eyebrows shot upwards in surprise when the wailing intensified. With his free hand, Geralt moved away the branches and foliage and reached inside the basket, moving aside the dirty blanket to reveal the face of a small child crying its heart out as the cold wind hit its skin. The witcher felt his heart constrict in his chest at the sight. He slid his sword back into its sheath before gently lifting the now screaming baby out of the basket. He noticed that the infant’s lips were already blue from the cold. 

“Fuck,” Gerald cursed under his breath as he rose to his feet and wrapped the blankets tightly around the crying baby again. The witcher ran back the way he came, always keeping an eye on the tiny bundle of blankets in his arms. He had to get to the healer quickly, or the infant might die of hypothermia. When Geralt reached Roach and Jaskier, he instantly noticed the confused expression on his face. Roach felt her owner’s urgency and whinnied uneasily when she saw him. Geralt shushed her softly before jumping onto her back. He securely tucked the babe under one arm and without another word reached out his hand for Jaskier to grab. Sensing the seriousness of the situation, the bard merely grabbed Geralt’s hand and let the bigger man hurl him onto the horse.

OoO

The closest village was only several miles away from where they had found the child. Despite Jaskier’s added weight, Roach rode steadily which meant that they managed to reach the village quickly. The infant had stopped crying and looked fast asleep, but that did not reassure Geralt in the least. They had found the village healer easily; she went by the name of Anika and lived at the edge of the woods. It was not uncommon for magic-wielding medics to live outside the villages, mostly because most humans were not comfortable around them. Anika had been outside her hut collecting herbs when Geralt and Jaskier arrived. The witcher had urgently described the situation to her and handed her the sleeping infant. Judging by the look on Anika’s face when she had taken the baby off Geralt, they did not have much time left. 

Two hours passed during which Anika had to revive the infant twice. She fed it various potions and boiled some water over the fire which she then used to bathe the child when the water had cooled somewhat. Her priority was to warm the babe up and to give it healing potions to fight off pneumonia and other symptoms of the cold which could kill it easily. After stabilising the baby’s vitals, Anika wrapped the tiny human in warm blankets and placed it near the roaring fire. Only after she had made sure that the infant’s breathing was regular did she turn to Geralt and Jaskier and addressed them for the first time since their arrival.

“She’ll survive. You got her here just in time. She’s lucky you found her.”

“She? It’s a she? Oh, poor thing.” Jaskier decided to sit next to the sleeping infant and leaned in closer to examine her face. Geralt did not dignify Anika’s words with an answer. He merely sat in silence, staring broodily at the fire. His quiet mood did not go unnoticed by the healer, who in an effort to get the witcher’s attention, squeezed his shoulder in a comforting gesture. At this, Geralt instinctively caught her wrist in a bruising hold which had Anika yelping in both surprise and slight discomfort. Jaskier was instantly on his feet, his hands raised in surrender hoping it would diffuse the tension in the room.

“Woah, sorry about that. Geralt is not used to spontaneous displays of affection,” the bard explained diplomatically, as if that justified the sudden action. Anika did her best to look calm and composed, but her eyes betrayed her anxiety. Geralt was, after all, an intimidating man without the added display of physical strength. Almost as if snapping out of a trance, the witcher let go of her slender wrist and went back to his brooding. Jaskier offered Anika an apologetic smile, which the healer reluctantly returned. 

“So, uh… what’s happening with this little angel now that you’ve healed her?” Jaskier asked, hoping to change the subject swiftly. Anika seemed grateful for the distraction. 

“I was just about to ask you the same question. She was obviously abandoned by her parents and judging by how close the location she was left is to the village, I assume that her mother at least lives not far away from here. Recently, three women have given birth here. As far as I know, all three women were looking forward to being mothers. I can’t recall anyone who looked like she wanted to get rid of the baby.”

“Maybe it was a decision that was out of the mother’s control,” Jaskier suggested grimly, “I’ve heard that story many times before. Could’ve been the doing of an ashamed father, or a cuckold husband…”

“Perhaps so, but in any case, I doubt the child will find a loving home here. Of course, there is always the possibility to take her to the nearest orphanage. The nearest one is in Nidelheim, which is a five-day journey from here. I go there regularly to buy herbs that I can’t grow in my own garden. I could take her there,” Anika suggested, and just as Jaskier was about to take her up on the offer, Geralt spoke for the first time since their arrival.

“No.” His voice was stern and unequivocal. Jaskier knew that tone too well. Jaskier and Anika both went silent, unsure how to react to the witcher’s reaction. As if sensing their confusion, Geralt willingly decided to elaborate. “I won’t give her up to an orphanage. She won’t have a chance to make it in this world if she’s raised in that kind of place.”  
Jaskier could not help the endeared smile that Geralt’s words triggered, nor the way his heart warmed at how much the witcher seemed to care about that infant’s future. Anika, on the other hand, looked stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

“So, what do you suggest?”

“You could take her in,” Geralt said, his amber eyes meeting Anika’s. The woman looked suddenly very uncomfortable. 

“I’m afraid I’m not much of a mother. I wouldn’t want to burden myself with a child. The villagers have a hard time accepting my presence here, if they found out that I took in an abandoned child… they might suspect me of teaching her the ways of magic and come for her anyway. It’s too risky.”

Geralt’s eyes narrowed at Anika’s words. He rose from his chair which moved away from with a loud scraping noise. Jaskier immediately stepped closer to his lover, ready to be the voice of reason if he thought that Geralt became too excitable. Anika stood her ground bravely and stared into the witcher’s eyes with her arms crossed before her chest. 

“An orphanage is out of the question,” said Geralt. 

“Witcher-“

“Geralt, we don’t have much of a choice,” Jaskier argued softly before Anika said something that would set Geralt off, “and an orphanage is better than the fate that awaited her in those woods. We would be doing her a favour.”

“If we send her to an orphanage, we might as well have left her to die in those woods. That would’ve been a kinder fate,” Geralt maintained stubbornly, earning himself a reprimanding glare from Anika. 

“You don’t mean that!”

“Like fuck I don’t!”

“Geralt…”

“Fuck, Jaskier, I won’t send her to a place where she’ll at best be raped and used for cheap labour!” Geralt snapped, his voice louder than before and making both Anika and Jaskier flinch. Geralt did not need to shout or draw his sword to be intimidating. His deep voice and the way it reverberated against the walls of the hut were loud enough to wake up the child that had until then been sleeping peacefully by the fire. It was only when she started whining softly and no one made a move to comfort her that Jaskier decided pick her up and cradle her close to his chest. He looked down at her, noticing her features for the first time. She did not have much hair, but the little she had seemed fine and dark. Her eyes were a deep shade of blue and filled with innocence and childlike wonder. Her lips were slightly parted as she stared at Jaskier, no doubt wondering who that strange man holding her was. Her button nose scrunched up as she fidgeted in his arms and tried to turn her head to the side to take in her surroundings. Jaskier felt his heart clench uncomfortably in his chest at the sight of this tiny human being, lost and abandoned, trying to make sense of what was happening to her. No doubt she was looking for her mother and instead she was left with three perfect strangers who were making decisions about her future as if she were nothing more than cattle being traded at the market.

“Geralt…,” Jaskier called out his lover’s name, his next words dying on his lips as he looked up at the witcher with wide pleading eyes, “Geralt, you’re right. There has to be another way.”

Geralt’s stance instantly softened at those words and at the vulnerability in Jaskier’s voice. Outsiders might not have noticed the subtle changes in the witcher’s demeanour, but Jaskier did. But whereas the witcher was still wrecking his brain for a solution to their problem, Jaskier had already come to a decision. He looked down at the infant in his arms who was now openly smiling at him. Jaskier found himself beaming back at the child. 

He would find her a loving home who would take her in and treat her like the little angel that she was if it was the last thing he did. 

“We’ll find her a family,” Jaskier announced out of the blue, his eyes still fixated on the now giggling child in his arms. With a tender smile plastered on his face, he gently stroked the infant’s cheek with two long fingers as if she were made of glass and could break at any moment. 

“Come again?” Geralt asked, surprise evident in his voice – which was a first, Jaskier had to admit. 

“We’ll find her a home where she’ll be wanted and cherished. That settles it. I promise I won’t rest until you’re safe, sweetheart.”

Anika’s eyes went wide at the announcement, while Geralt merely sighed and shook his head in utter surrender, knowing full well that now that Jaskier was invested in this endeavour, there would be no convincing him that taking responsibility for a child when he was still a child himself was one of his worst ideas yet. Geralt was about to tell him as much when he noticed the way Jaskier looked fondly at the infant in his arms and smiling brightly every time his foolish antics pulled a delighted giggle out of her. Jaskier looked up at his lover and even Geralt had to admit that this was the happiest that the bard had looked in weeks. The gods knew that all the witcher truly wanted was for Jaskier to be happy.

_F_ _uck._

TBC.


	2. The Journey Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I say how impressed I am by the reception this work is getting already? I didn't think I would get this many likes and comments after only one chapter. Thank you so much guys, and I hope you like this chapter. You truly motivate me to write more. You rock. xx

Geralt and Jaskier accepted Anika’s offer to lodge them for the night. She volunteered to keep an eye on the child for them so they could both rest before embarking on their next perilous adventure: finding a nice family who would take in the child they had found in the woods. While Jaskier was confident that the task would be easy enough, Geralt did not share the bard’s optimism. He was not worried that the child would not find a loving home, but rather that Jaskier would become too attached to the child to let her go. He saw how enamoured the bard was with the infant after only knowing her for several hours. How would Jaskier react when he had to turn his back on her and trust perfect strangers that they would take good care of her? 

Geralt could not sleep that night. Jaskier was snoring next to him, having succumbed to sleep as soon as his head had hit the pillow. The bard was lying on his front, his face turned to Geralt’s side of the bed and an arm thrown carelessly across the witcher’s middle. Geralt lay uneasily on his back, his head propped on his arm as he stared pensively at the ceiling. Occasionally, he heard Anika walk about in the room next door soothing the child back to sleep whenever she woke up crying. What had they got themselves into? The life Geralt led was no life for a child. Finding her a home would have to be his priority for the foreseeable future, and he felt out of his depth. Jaskier snorted unceremoniously in his sleep before cuddling closer to Geralt’s warm body. 

“Stop thinking so loud,” Jaskier muttered sleepily. The bard rested his head on Geralt’s broad shoulder, his hair tickling the witcher’s cheeks. 

“Go back to sleep, Jaskier.”

“You know we’ll be fine, right? You fight and kill monsters for a living. There’s nothing you can’t do.”

Geralt sometimes wished he was as confident and optimistic as Jaskier, a poet at heart who whole-heartedly believed in a happily ever after. It was his job to make people dream through his poetry and his songs. Even his darkest stories always ended on a positive note. Only real life was never so kind. The real world was cruel and bloody. Geralt’s only worry was that Jaskier would get hurt at the end of this story, and that was the very last thing he wanted. 

“Get some rest. We have a long day of travelling to Novigrad tomorrow,” Jaskier said after placing the softest of kisses on Geralt’s lips. 

OoO

Morning came too quickly for Geralt. The loud cries of the child woke both him and Jaskier up, despite Anika’s efforts to soothe the infant. Jaskier’s hold on Geralt was surprisingly strong, which meant that the witcher had to untangle himself from his lover who was still groggily trying to understand what was happening to him. 

“Ger’lt,” Jaskier complained softly when Geralt moved out of bed, “c’mere…”

“Get dressed, Jaskier. The quicker we reach Novigrad, the quicker we can find the child a suitable family.” The bard groaned in what Geralt recognised to be frustration. 

“Just when I thought that there was nothing worse than wet forest grounds and crawling insects to kill the mood… turns out a child is not an aphrodisiac, either,” Jaskier commented as he climbed out of bed and picked his clothes off the floor. 

“All the more reason to set off early, then.”

When Geralt and Jaskier came out of their room, Anika was feeding the baby some warm milk through a cow horn onto which a leather sack containing the white liquid had been attached. Anika was smiling softly at the infant who greedily drank from the horn. Jaskier made a bee line to the pair, softly stroking the baby’s cheek once he was close enough. 

“She looks so much healthier already,” he told Anika.

“She’s definitely a fighter. Have you decided where you are heading with her?”

“Novigrad,” Geralt answered gruffly, “if we set off soon, we’ll reach it by midday tomorrow.”

“There are other villages a lot closer than this. It’s not safe in the woods out there,” Anika argued vehemently, her hold on the small child tightening considerably. Geralt narrowed his eyes at her reaction and rose to his full height when he addressed her again.

“You are more than welcome to take responsibility for this child if you so wish, but as long as I’m in charge of finding her a home, I will decide where we head.”

“Besides, Geralt can defend himself and us from monsters,” Jaskier, ever the diplomatic voice, said in an attempt to diffuse the tension. Anika glared at both men but did not argue further. Instead, she handed Jaskier the child and started to fill a bag with food, vials of potions and water. She also added the cow horn, some rags and blankets before turning to face Jaskier once again, clearly intent on ignoring Geralt. 

“Since your friend is going to be stubborn, I suggest you listen carefully to me. If you’re going to spend the night in the forest, you need to make sure that as soon as you get into Novigrad you find some milk to feed the child. Preferably warm, but if that’s not possible, cold will do. You could try soaking bread in milk, see if she likes that. You’ll have to buy her suitable clothes, too. I put a week’s worth of potions in this bag. Make sure she drinks a vial twice a day, it will keep the pneumonia and the cold at bay. There is fruit and water in there, too. Until you reach Novigrad, make sure the child drinks plenty of water. Make her eat fruit as well, they will keep her hydrated. I also gave you some rags for when her nappy is full, and warm blankets for the cold nights.”

“Wait, do you mind if I take some notes?” Jaskier did not wait for the healer’s answer to dash back into the room where he had left his bag with his quill, ink and notebook. As soon as the bard was out of sight, Anika turned her stern gaze on Geralt, who easily held her glare. 

“Your friend is definitely a better man than you are,” she said coldly.

“You are entitled to your opinion. Nonetheless, I would like to thank you for your help. Here…” Geralt handed Anika a leather purse filled with coins, but she merely shook her head at it. 

“Keep them. You’ll need the money more than I do. You do realise that an orphanage is your easiest bet?” 

“That may be so, but if I believe that anyone who leaves a child in that kind of institution is a monster,” Geralt argued back, his voice calm as if Anika’s bluntness and stubbornness did not affect him.

“We’ll see if you still think that when everyone you meet rejects this child.”

Geralt was about to argue when Jaskier stumbled back into the room, holding his quill and pad in one hand, and his bottle of ink in another. Both Anika and Geralt turned to face him, but the bard seemed unaware of the palpable friction in the air. Instead, he dropped his supplies on the table and unscrewed the bottle of ink expertly, before flipping his leather notebook open and dipping his quill in the dark ink. 

“So, what were you saying about the milk?”

Anika spent another hour telling Jaskier all he needed to know about caring for a small child while Geralt made sure that Roach was well rested and fed before loading their bags onto her back. He readjusted the stirrups so they would fit Jaskier, who Geralt had decided would be riding Roach until further notice. If they were going to travel with a child, Geralt wanted to spend as little time on the road as possible, contrary to what Anika may have believed. Having Jaskier follow him on foot carrying the child would only slow them down. Novigrad was their best bet, and the closest town for miles. Thankfully Jaskier seemed willing to take care of the infant until they reached their decision. Geralt was not sure how well he would have coped had been on his own on this one.

When Jaskier finally came out of Anika’s hut, the bag of supplies thrown over his shoulder and the baby safely nestled in his arms, Geralt was standing next to Roach speaking softly to her. When he caught sight of Jaskier and the child, his heart tightened in his chest. The bard looked so happy, so content. Where did the immature young man who got himself into more trouble than was strictly necessary go? It was almost as if the Jaskier he knew had been replaced by a total stranger overnight. 

“Oh Geralt, there you are. We were wondering where you’d gone,” Jaskier turned to Anika and pulled her into a one-armed embrace, which the healer reluctantly returned, “Thank you so much for your help, we sure won’t forget it. Won’t we, Geralt?”

“Get on the horse, Jaskier.”

The look of sheer disbelief on the bard’s face would almost have been comical were Geralt not so eager to leave Anika’s judgemental presence. Jaskier broke into the widest smile Geralt had ever seen on him at the news that he would get to ride on Roach. The bard had a proper skip in his step as he made his way to Geralt, handing him the bag of supplies and the child while he climbed onto Roach. Geralt’s gaze dropped to the tiny human in his arms, and the way her deep blue eyes stared at him with interest was an entirely different kind of intense. The witcher felt like the infant could see right into his very soul. Geralt was inexplicably relieved when he was able to hand Jaskier the child again. 

“Well, the world does look a whole lot different from up here, doesn’t it sweetheart?” Jaskier remarked as he addressed the babe in his arms. Anika smiled softly at the pair as she watched the bard explain his surroundings to the curious child. Geralt secured the bag of supplies onto Roach and took a hold of her bridle seeing as Jaskier would not be able to ride properly while holding the infant.

He addressed Anika one last time. 

“Are you sure you do not want payment for your services?” he asked her again, but the healer shook her head once again. 

“The greatest payment you could give me is to find that little angel a home. May the gods be kind to you three on your journey. You are that child’s destiny, Geralt of Rivia.”

“Destiny helps people believe that there’s order to this horseshit. But believe me, there isn’t.”

“Always so cheerful,” Jaskier commented from his raised position, “don’t worry, little one, Geralt’s an old grump, but deep down he’s got a heart of gold.”

Geralt rolled his eyes at the comment, and without another word, set off south towards Novigrad. 

OoO

“You know Geralt, I thought of a wonderful name for this little angel here,” Jaskier announced later that afternoon. They had been walking all day, not stopping for food or water. Jaskier had fed the child some apple slices and water regularly. He had also made sure that the child drank some of the healing drought Anika had prepared for her. 

“Naming the child is a terrible idea, Jaskier,” Geralt immediately said, taking the bard by surprise. The witcher did not have to turn around to guess the startled expression on Jaskier’s face. 

“Why not?”

“Because as soon as you name it, you get attached. If you get attached, you won’t want to part with her.”

There was a long pause during which Jaskier thought of a come-back to this reasoning. The forest around them was surprisingly quiet, and Geralt was grateful for the lack of monsters in the area. The last thing he needed was to fight off a monster and worry about Jaskier and the child getting hurt. 

“But we can’t just keep referring to her as an ‘it’. We need a nickname for her. Don’t we, sweetheart?”

“That sounds like a nickname to me,” Geralt remarked. 

“We need something more personal. Something that suits her. Something that will remind her of us.”

“You are wandering into dangerous territory, Jaskier. Don’t do it. It will only make things difficult for you.”

Jaskier grew quiet again, which broke Geralt’s heart. He knew he was being an asshole to the bard, but he was doing it for his own good. 

These next few days would certainly feel like the longest of his life. 

OoO

“Make it stop!” Geralt finally snapped, earning himself a reproachful look from Jaskier. 

“Yelling won’t make her stop any quicker, Geralt.”

They had stopped near a clearing several hours ago, settling for the night ahead. Geralt had started a fire and had handed Jaskier some bread to tie him over until they reached Novigrad the next day. The child was crying her little heart out, and her screams echoed loudly through the forest. Jaskier had tried everything to calm her down: change her nappy, feed her fruit, water, rocking her back and forth, tickling her, wrapping her in warm blankets… nothing had worked, and the bard was also starting to lose his patience. Geralt, on the other hand, worried that the child’s incessant screams would attract predators to their location. 

“What could she possibly need? You’ve tried everything!”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I learn to speak baby, Geralt. Did it ever occur to you that she might miss her mother?” That thought had, in fact, not occurred to Geralt because he was more concerned about their safety than the reason why the child was upset. “Why don’t you have a shot at rocking her, anyway? Oh, that’s right, because all you want is to get rid of her as soon as possible.”

“Jaskier…”

“Spare me, Geralt. If you’re not going to be helpful, then just leave.” 

That, in fact, sounded like a fucking brilliant idea. Without further prompting, Geralt rose and went to grab his sword on the way into the woods. The sun was slowly setting on the horizon, but it was still bright enough to hunt. Geralt started to feel the pangs of hunger, and this state was making him more irritable than usual. He regretted snapping like this at Jaskier, but at the same time he was grateful for the opportunity to be by himself. He could still hear the faint cries of the infant but did his best to ignore them. He doubted that with all the commotion there was any prey left in the forest to hunt. The child’s cries had most likely chased every prey away.

His hunt was unsuccessful, which only increased Geralt’s frustration. He was forced to head back to the camp they had set up because darkness had fallen over the woods, and despite how irritated he was with Jaskier, he did not want anything to happen to him or the child. He knew he would have to face the music sooner or later. Anika’s words had resonated in his mind since they had left the village earlier that day. Your friend is definitely a better man than you are. You are her destiny, Geralt of Rivia. What utter horseshit. He had found the child in the woods by accident, and now he was doing the right thing in trying to find her a home where she could have a normal childhood. How was he not a good man for trying to do this? Just because he was not doting on the child like Jaskier was did not mean he did not care about the child at all. 

To Geralt’s surprise, the incessant crying had stopped when he reached the camp. Jaskier had clearly not heard his approach over the sound of the lute playing. Geralt decided to keep his distances for now and observe the scene before him. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned with his shoulder against the nearest tree trunk. Jaskier was playing an all too familiar tune on his lute, a tune that Geralt pretended to hate because he knew that Jaskier would become even more unbearable than he already was if he knew how much the witcher enjoyed the song. 

“ _That’s my epic tale, our champion prevailed, defeated the villain, now pour him some ale. Toss a coin to your witcher, o’ valley of plenty, o’ valley of plenty. Toss a coin to your witcher, a friend of humanity_.” The infant was giggling now, clearly enjoying Jaskier’s antics. Geralt fought the smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips but failed miserably. 

“Well at least one of you enjoys my singing. Do you know what Geralt told me about my singing? He said that it was ‘like ordering a pie and finding it has now filling’,” Jaskier told the infant, imitating Geralt’s voice as he spoke those words. “He did apologise later, but still ouch. He gave me one hell of an apology, mind you. You know, Geralt may look like a bitter and dangerous witcher, but he’s the sweetest man once you get to know him. He would do anything to keep the people he cares about safe. And although he hasn’t showed it much to you yet, he does care. Trust me, if he didn’t care, he would not have fought so hard to keep you out of an orphanage. You’re very lucky he found you.”

Geralt sighed when Jaskier spoke those words. His heart filled with fondness for the bard who had put up with a lot of since he first met the witcher. Geralt decided that he had spied on them long enough and stepped forward, clearing his throat to announce his arrival to Jaskier. The younger man flinched at the unexpected sound and Geralt noticed his hold tighten on the sleeping infant. As soon as he recognised his lover, Jaskier visibly relaxed. 

“Geralt…”

“I see you’ve calmed the cub down,” Geralt remarked, noticing with a small smile how Jaskier beamed at the nickname the witcher had picked for the still nameless child. 

“The cub, as you say, happens to love my singing voice.”

“I could see that. You have a way with her.”

Jaskier smiled at those words, his gaze falling on the child once again. 

“She’s a little miracle, our little cub.”

Geralt sat down next to Jaskier on the cold ground as close to the other man as physically possible. He smiled at the sight of the sleeping child but could not bring himself to touch her. He thought he might break her with his hands that were roughened from years of killing monsters. His touch was in fact rarely soft. Jaskier was often left with bruises when Geralt became too overzealous or forgot his own strength during sex. Although the witcher would never purposefully hurt Jaskier, he easily forgot how breakable he was. Needless to say that Jaskier hardly ever complained. 

“You want to hold her?” he heard Jaskier ask. 

“Let her sleep. It took you long enough to get her there.”

Jaskier merely nodded and rested his head on Geralt’s shoulder. In a rare moment of affection, the witcher placed a quick kiss on the crown of Jaskier’s head, the irritation he had felt earlier long forgotten. 

The next day, they would reach Novigrad and Geralt was not sure if he was ready to see Jaskier’s heart break yet. 

TBC. 


	3. Novigrad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologise for the terrible titling, but since I never put any titles other than 'Chapter One', 'Chapter Two', etc., I thought I'd give this story a bit more structure. I know exactly where this is going, every chapter is more or less lined out. I'm planning on writing 6 in total, but you never know... I might get carried away by my muse. 
> 
> Again, I appreciate everyone who as taken the time to kudo, comment, bookmark and follow this story! Your support is valued beyond imagining!!
> 
> Enjoy this chapter. xx

Geralt and Jaskier took turns sleeping that night. After listening to Jaskier’s singing for a little while, the infant had fallen asleep and was resting peacefully nestled in the bard’s arms. As Jaskier started dozing off himself, Geralt volunteered to relieve him from his duties. With a gentleness that Geralt did not know he possessed, he lifted the sleeping child from his lover’s arms and settled comfortably as close to the fire as possible, his back leaning against a nearby tree. The child stirred slightly as she was being handed over, but thankfully she did not wake up. As the cold wind picked up around them, Geralt did his best to shield the sleeping infant from its frosty bite. Jaskier’s snoring was comforting as Geralt kept watch for any dangers that may be lurking in the woods. The warm glow of the fire provided the only source of light on this very dark, starless night. 

Geralt’s gaze fell on the small child in his arms, and something unexpected stirred in him as he observed her twitch in her sleep. She was lucky to be alive. She had cheated the fate that destiny had in store for her. This child was clearly meant to achieve great things in her lifetime, and Geralt was not sure if this was a curse or a blessing. Every child deserved to lead a carefree childhood filled with innocence, and laughter, and play. Geralt had not had that luxury. His mother had left him to be raised by witchers in Kaer Morhen, where he had gone through countless painful mutations and been submitted to a strict training that had turned him into the witcher he was. Geralt had never known his father, but he guessed that he had never been much of a family man. And as for Geralt himself, becoming a witcher had come with a price. He would never have the chance to experience fatherhood even if he had wished for children in his lifetime. 

The child in his arms frowned as she stirred more earnestly this time. Geralt held his breath when he saw her open her eyes. He silently prayed that she would not start crying again, but to his surprise, she merely stared at him with curiosity. The two of them stared at each other for a while, amber eyes meeting cerulean ones. Her tiny lips twitched a little before stretching into a bright toothless smile. The cub was properly beaming at the huge man holding her, and at the sight Geralt felt a warm feeling coil in the pit of his stomach. The soft smile that appeared on his usually stern features felt natural. It was impossible not to be affected by the child’s infectious smile. The infant let out a shrill cry followed by incomprehensible gurgling, and it almost sounded like she was trying to communicate something to him. 

“Not even able to walk yet and here you are making demands,” Geralt told the child softly, “I think Jaskier’s predisposition to pointless conversation is rubbing off on you already.”

There was some more gurgling in response to Geralt’s words, but soon the child was taken by surprise by a yawn. She was fighting sleep as she took in her surroundings. In the past few days she had seen more of the world than some children did in a lifetime. Her childlike wonder and curiosity conflicted with her need to rest. Geralt knew that if the child did not sleep through the night, she would be cranky in the morning. He started gently rocking her hoping that the motion would lull her to sleep. He would not be seen dead singing to her; that was Jaskier’s area of expertise. To the witcher’s relief, it did not take long for the child to fall back asleep in the safety of his arms. 

OoO

The free city of Novigrad, home to over thirty thousand people, was the jewel of the Northern kingdoms. Whenever Geralt was in the vicinity of Novigrad, he made sure to spend a couple of days there to recover from his travels. There were very little monsters around the city, which was always a blessing when Geralt needed a break from his job. He would not go as far as to say that the people there were friendly to him, but his presence was more tolerated than anywhere else on the Continent. In fact, people simply ignored him most of them time, which Geralt was grateful for. 

Jaskier and Geralt had decided to stop at the Kingfisher Inn for food. Geralt had paid the innkeeper handsomely to buy both a room for two nights and his discretion. Meanwhile, Jaskier had taken a seat at a table in a dark corner where the three of them could enjoy a meal away from prying eyes. Of course, there was always at least one curious pair of eyes that followed them wherever they went thanks to Jaskier’s epic and stupidly catching ballad about the witcher, but Geralt had learned long ago to ignore people’s stares. The bard had arranged their bags in such a way that they propped up the child, allowing her to take in her busy surroundings. They had both ordered stewed pork and walnut bread, which came with a tankard of ale each. For the child, Jaskier ordered some milk and bread. Geralt paid the barmaid her due, ever his taciturn self when he tried to blend in. Jaskier was also uncharacteristically quiet, which was beginning to worry Geralt. The bard never shut up unless something was on his mind. 

“What’s troubling you, Jaskier?” Geralt’s voice startled the bard out of his reverie.

“What? Oh, eh nothing just tired from the journey.”

Geralt did not need his powers to know that Jaskier was lying to him, and that bothered the witcher although he was too proud to admit it. Jaskier was usually quick to confide in him when he experienced the slightest inconvenience. Geralt would have pressed the matter further had they not been interrupted by the barmaid bringing them their food and drinks. The young woman noticed the child sitting next to Jaskier and her unfriendly and stranger-wary demeanour instantly changed. 

“Well hi there, sweetheart. Aren’t you the sweetest little angel?” she cooed as she reached out to the small child and tapped her nose softly. The child let out a delighted noise at the attention she was getting. Geralt noticed the way Jaskier tensed when the barmaid came too close to the child. “What’s her name, if you don’t mind me asking?”  
Jaskier shot Geralt a panicked look at the question. Although the witcher had explicitly told him not to name the child so he would not get too attached, admitting to a stranger that the child did not have a name would open up a whole can of worms that would be too difficult to explain without raising suspicion. Two men travelling with a small child was strange, unheard of even. They needed to keep a low profile. 

“Willow,” Geralt said, surprising both himself and Jaskier. The bard stared at him wide-eyed like the witcher had just spontaneously grown a second head. The barmaid seemed unaware of their silent exchange as she spoke to the child. After the initial shock Geralt’s words had triggered in Jaskier had subsided, the bard broke into a smile so wide and bright it rivalled the sun. 

“She is so precious. Is she yours?” the barmaid asked Jaskier directly, and again the bard looked at loss for words. This time, Geralt did not have to come to the rescue. Jaskier’s talent for storytelling made it easy to lie to the barmaid’s face. 

“She’s my niece. My sister tragically passed away and left behind this darling girl. I’m unfortunately unable to provide for Willow with my meagre income, you understand, so I travelled to Novigrad hoping that I would find her a loving family who would be kind enough to take her in.”

“Oh, funny you say that,” the barmaid suddenly exclaimed, her tone betraying her incredulity, “there’s a couple who lives around the corner who have been trying for a child for years. I believe the husband is a blacksmith, he owns a forge near the city gates. You could go talk to him. His name is Aldred.”  
Geralt noticed how Jaskier’s face decomposed at the thought of letting go of Willow so early into their quest, and the witcher knew when the time came, he would have to be strong for the both of them. He still found it hard to believe that Jaskier had so easily slipped into the father role, whereas Geralt felt completely out of his depth. 

“Thank you for the lead. We will follow it up after we’ve had our food,” Geralt told the barmaid dismissively, growing exceedingly tired of her flirty tone and the way she batted her pretty eyelashes at the bard. She was lucky that Geralt did not want to make a scene, because the lack of sleep meant he was in an irritable and generally unforgiving mood. The barmaid quickly scurried away when she met

Geralt’s glare. Jaskier rolled his eyes at Geralt’s jealous display. 

“She was just being nice.”

“She was being too nice for my liking,” Geralt retorted dryly as he ate a spoonful of the bland stew. It was not the nicest meal he had tasted, but at least it was hot. The ale tasted like goat piss. 

“Well I’m flattered that you think I’m so irresistible, but rest assured I’m not interested in her.”

“Hm.”

“Besides, my heart already belongs to an emotionally distant witcher, so you don’t stand a chance here, good sir,” Jaskier joked, trying to lighten the mood. Geralt truly needed the distraction, and willingly played along with the bard’s act. 

“He must be a lucky man,” Geralt allowed a cheeky smirk to grace his lips. Jaskier winked at him suggestively, but the witcher’s flirty comeback was cut short by Willow’s unhappy wails. Jaskier immediately turned his attention to the child, who looked seconds away from throwing a proper tantrum. The bard quickly dunked some bread in the milk and handed the it to the now interested child. Willow did not need further prompting and stuffed the soggy bread inside her mouth, nibbling on it as much as her toothless disposition allowed. Jaskier praised her for her effort. 

“Eat your stew, Jaskier. We need to speak to the blacksmith before nightfall.”

OoO

After lunch, Willow started crying at the top of her lungs, and again the only thing that would comfort her was Jaskier’s singing. Geralt had therefore decided that it would be wise to leave him to tend for the upset child in their room and go speak to the blacksmith himself. He was convinced that he would get better results if he went by himself, anyway. Geralt decided to leave his sword in the room, but he still carried two small daggers with him in case of an emergency. He did not want to look too intimidating when speaking to the blacksmith. He wanted the man to feel like he could trust Geralt, which would already prove difficult once the blacksmith figured out _what_ Geralt was. People were always distrustful of witchers, and Geralt could not blame them. A witcher’s reputation always preceded him.

Geralt was happy to find the forge near the city’s gates deserted apart from the one man welding steel plates together. The witcher walked confidently up to the blacksmith, clearing his throat once he was close enough to make him aware of his presence. The man looked up at him, confusion written all over his face. 

“Can I help you, good sir?”

“My name is Geralt of Rivia. I have a rather unusual request.” 

As soon as the witcher spoke his name, the blacksmith’s eyes widen comically. He clearly recognised the name from Jaskier’s now famous ballad. Instantly, the atmosphere around them changed. Tension was palpable in the air, as Geralt had expected. He tried to keep a friendly disposition, and he was glad he had decided to lose the sword for this meeting. 

“What does a witcher want from me? I am a modest blacksmith. I have nothing to offer you.”

“Perhaps not, but I have something to offer you. I understand that you and your wife have been failing to produce a child-“

“Who the fuck told you that? This is none of your fucking business,” the man hissed between gritted teeth. Geralt had clearly hit a sensitive topic of conversation. “I bet it was that fucking bar wench at the Kingfisher.”

“The reason I am bringing this up is because I happen to have a child that needs a home. I thought you and your wife might be interested in meeting her.”

The blacksmith suddenly went quiet. He looked at Geralt like he hung the moon, and his initially hostile attitude changed instantly when he learned that he might be able to get a child out of this conversation. Geralt felt slightly uneasy, although he did not yet know why. 

“I… this is too good to be true. How did you… you know what, I won’t even ask where you got the child. As long as you promise that there’s nothing _wrong_ with her…”

Geralt knew exactly what the blacksmith implied. He wanted Geralt to guarantee him that the child did not have any magical powers and had not undergone any mutations. 

“The child is human, and healthy. All we want for her is to find her a good home so she won’t have to go to an orphanage.”

The blacksmith was still suspicious, Geralt could tell. He could not blame the man.

“Bring her over tonight. We live two streets up from the Kingfisher, the second house on the left side of the street. We’ll discuss payment when you’re there. Now get lost before you scare all my customers away.”

When Geralt returned to the inn to find Jaskier and Willow sleeping peacefully on the bed, the witcher felt the familiar knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He had to this. He had to give Willow her best shot. It was for the best. 

OoO

“So, this child is definitely normal, yes?” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jaskier countered defensively, glaring at Aldred and the shadow of a woman sitting next to him. Geralt stood by the window, his eyes staring absent-mindedly at the fire roaring in the hearth. The house was not big, but well-furnished. A blacksmith’s wage did not grant the couple many luxuries, but it certainly paid for the necessities. If Willow spent the rest of her life in this home, she would look forward to at least one hot meal a day, warm clothes and she might even learn how to count and read if Aldred was ready to teach her. It was not the best, but it could have been so much worse. 

Geralt could not shake the feeling that he was making a terrible mistake. 

“You must understand that this situation is most peculiar. A witcher and a bard selling us a child… my loving wife and I want to make sure that this child isn’t dangerous.”

“She’s not even a year old!”

“Jaskier, enough!” Geralt admonished the bard, although he understood the bard’s anger. Despite Geralt’s warning, Jaskier had become far too attached to Willow already and oddly protective of her.

They needed to find her a family fast, or Jaskier would plain refuse to let go of her. Geralt knew this was what was best for everyone involved. 

“What about you, miss, what are your thoughts on the situation?” Jaskier addressed the wife directly, who looked up at him with frightened eyes. Geralt saw something in her eyes that sent a shiver down his spine. He had seen that look before, and he feared that he knew exactly what it meant. 

“She thinks what I tell her to think. It’s her fault we’re in this mess. She’s broken. She should be grateful that I’m willing to pay for a child and that I’m not publicly shaming her.”

Jaskier went quiet, and Geralt decided that he had heard enough. He turned his back on the window and stared at the terrified woman directly, watching her squirm under his intense gaze. Geralt narrowed his eyes as he used his enhanced sight to examine the woman sitting mere feet away from her. Human eyes would not have been able to make out the strangulation marks on her neck in the dimness of the room, but Geralt had. The way the woman wordlessly accepted her husband’s verbal abuse told Geralt that it was already too late for her to be saved, but it certainly was not too late for Willow. 

“Offer’s off the table. Come on, Jaskier.”

“Excuse me?” Aldred rose from his chair and took several bold steps towards Geralt, who calmly stood his ground. “You promised me a child!”

“I never promised you anything, I made you an offer. And I just decided that I want to retract that offer.”

“You want to get rid of the child, and I’m willing to take her in. It’s a win-win situation, witcher. So, you and your little whore can go back to your unnatural gallivanting completely child-free.”

Geralt tensed at Aldred’s words. He vaguely saw Jaskier shoot him a pleading look not to get into a fight, but when someone insulted Jaskier it was hard not to throw punches. The blacksmith seemed the kind of man who liked a challenge, and who liked to pick fights with men bigger than himself to boost his ego. He was, unfortunately, no match for Geralt even though he did not know that yet. 

“What? Cat got your tongue, mutant?”

“Jaskier, we’re leaving.”

“If you think I’ll be a bad father, I suggest you take a closer look in the mirror, butcher!” 

Geralt would not rise to the bait. He had learned a long time ago that the best weapon against provocation was ignorance. Jaskier was quick to leave the premises, clutching a sleeping Willow close to his chest. The babe was blissfully unaware of the events unfolding around her, and Geralt had to admire her ability to sleep through anything. 

Geralt and Jaskier walked back to the Kingfisher in silence. 

OoO

“I suggest we head to Oxenfurt next. I think if we are to find a loving family for Willow, it will be there. I recall the place fondly, and if I’m honest the last thing I want is to linger here any longer than we have to.”

Geralt agreed with Jaskier, knowing that it was not Novigrad per se that the bard wished to leave behind but the painful memory of Aldred’s harsh words. Geralt knew that the insult had hurt Jaskier more than the man wanted to let on, but the witcher did not encourage his lover to talk about it. Instead, he held Jaskier closer than usual that night when both had slipped under the thin covers. His kisses were more tender, his touch softer and his words kind and reassuring. Jaskier let a few tears slip, but Geralt did not comment on those. He merely wiped them with his strong thumbs and kissed the trails they left behind. 

That night, Geralt dreamed of teaching Aldred a lesson for making Jaskier feel like nothing but a common whore. 

OoO

The next day, Geralt and Jaskier had risen early and got ready to leave Novigrad early in the morning. Jaskier had gone to the market shortly after dawn to get some fresh milk, food for the journey and more rags to use as Willow’s nappies. They had not stayed in Novigrad long enough to have clothes tailored for her, but Jaskier had vowed he would buy her proper clothes once in Oxenfurt. Geralt had fed Willow the last of the fruit Anika had packed for her while Jaskier was away at the market. He also fed the child her medicine and some water to tie her over until she had milk.   
They set off early that morning, making sure not to leave through the main gates to avoid a confrontation with the blacksmith. Geralt lead Roach south west towards Oxenfurt. It had been a while since he had seen this city, but he could not find it in himself to feel excited about the journey. Not only had they failed to find a family for Willow, but Aldred’s words still echoed in his mind like a cruel mantra. Geralt was used to being called a mutant, he was used to people treating him with nothing but disdain. The term butcher he still had a hard time getting over, though. He had refrained from mentioning this to Jaskier, knowing the bard would only worry about him over nothing. Geralt did not know why this time the insult had hit him closer to home. It had felt different this time. 

It had felt justified.

“Geralt? Did you see that?”

The urgency in Jaskier’s tone pulled Geralt out of his trance. He came to a sudden halt and scanned the area, using his enhanced senses to detect anything that could indicate the presence of monsters or strangers. Poachers and thieves were not uncommon on these roads. Suddenly, Geralt picked up a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. Roach whinnied in fear, her agitation visible in the way she threw back her head and snorted anxiously. Geralt unsheathed his sword as he came face to face with four large wolves staring at them hungrily. Sensing everyone’s anxiety, Willow let out a terrified wail which only added to the urgency of the situation and heightened Geralt’s stress levels. 

“Uh, Geralt? What do we do now?”

  
TBC. 


	4. Of Monsters and Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Hope you are all well, and excited for the new chapter! I know I am excited for you guys to read it. 
> 
> Some housekeeping while I'm at it. Firstly, I realised that I put down 6 chapters in total when in fact I meant 7. So that was changed. 
> 
> Second, PLEASE HEED THE VIOLENCE WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER, PLEASE. I know Witcher fans are likely fine with some violence, but I have graphically described some events and just want to give too much warning than not enough. Also this filler chapter is very angsty, but I promise it will get better.
> 
> And finally, I've just gone back to university and started my courses, gone back to my part time job etc. So I will try to post my chapters fairly quickly. I have every chapter lined out, and just need to write them out. 
> 
> Other than that, enjoy this chapter! Thanks again for the unconditional support.

_“Eh, Geralt? What do we do now?”_

Geralt remained perfectly still as he evaluated his options. The wolves, probably belonging to the same pack, remained at a distance and occasionally growled threateningly at their prey. Roach whinnied in fear, a sound which was promptly followed by another terrified cry from Willow. Geralt picked up Jaskier’s frantic heartbeat and the witcher realised that he had to act quickly or risk Jaskier panicking, which would only encourage the hungry beasts before them to attack for fear of their meal managing to escape them. 

“Jaskier, listen carefully. Here’s what you’re going to do. Dismount Roach and slowly walk backwards. Don’t ever turn your back on them, do you understand? If Roach runs away, let her. Don’t run unless I tell you to.”

Geralt felt more than witnessed Jaskier’s hesitation, but thankfully the bard did not object his order. The witcher soon heard the other man dismount Roach, softly shushing Willow who was whimpering in barely contained fear. In the meantime, Geralt kept his eyes riveted on the four wolves who started closing in on them, the fur at the back of their necks bristling in anticipation of their assault. Geralt raised his sword defensively and slowly began stepping back, one foot at the time, while maintaining eye contact with the animal he guessed was the alpha of the group. He secretly hoped that Roach would not bolt for fear her sudden action would set the chase off, but he knew that he could not expect the mare to go against her survival instinct. 

“Everything alright back there?”

“Define alright…,” Jaskier answered, a terrified yelp pushing past his lips when one of the wolves barked at him in reprimand, “Well that one’s a little too bossy for my taste…”

“Stay focused!” Geralt sternly chastised the bard. Suddenly, Roach snorted and reared herself onto her hind legs with a loud neigh of terror before sprinting in the opposite direction. As if her reaction had been the signal the beasts had been waiting for, the alpha threw his head back and let out a blood-curling howl.

“Now, Jaskier, don’t stop and don’t look back,” Geralt roared at the bard as he swung his sword at the first wolf who attacked him. Willow’s whimpers turned into full-blown screams as Jaskier bolted away from the scene as far as his legs and the infant’s added weight allowed. Geralt could not turn his back on the feral canines, but the fading sound of Willow’s screams told him that Jaskier was managing to put some distance between them and their attackers. Geralt let that thought comfort him as he fought off the second beast that leaped at him from way back and attempted to dig its sharp teeth in his arm. The witcher effectively countered the attack by burying the sword in the beast’s chest. The first wolf that had attacked him suffered a nasty cut to the side, and Geralt was confident that he had damaged some vital organs that meant the beast would bleed to death. To the witcher’s horror, he realised too late that the two other wolves were long gone, undoubtedly already pursuing Jaskier, Willow and Roach. 

“Fuck.”

How Geralt managed to catch up with the other two wolves was beyond him but he would later put this sudden burst of energy down to an adrenaline rush fuelled by sheer panic. He had never been more grateful for his superhuman abilities than in that very instant. Geralt did not even need to use his witcher senses to locate Jaskier and Willow; the infant’s cries could probably be heard all over the Continent at this stage. Fortunately, Geralt did not have to sprint very far. Jaskier had only managed to run for several hundred yards before the wolves had caught up with him. Geralt felt his heart sink in his chest and his blood turn cold in his veins when he heard Jaskier’s call for help. 

“Geralt, please hurry!”

Jaskier calling out his name with such desperation evident in his tone triggered an indescribable rage in the witcher. Willow’s terrified screams pierced the stillness of the forest as the two beasts backed her and Jaskier up against a tree. Geralt raised his hand and felt his magic coil in his core before travelling to his fingertips and effectively sending the wolves flying into a nearby tree. This move gave Geralt enough time to position himself in front of Jaskier and Willow, sword in hand and raised menacingly as he watched the alpha wolf pounce at them. With uncanny precision, Geralt threw his sword at the beast which caught in his ribcage with such strength that it managed to skewer the beast in mid-air. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed the remaining wolf prepare itself to attack, teeth showing as it snarled at him. Geralt managed to sidestep the wolf and tackle it to the ground. The beast did its best to wiggle out of Geralt’s strong hold, but before it could recover the witcher had grabbed its head and twisted it forcefully until he had felt a familiar crack. Geralt dropped the lifeless wolf to the ground with a grunt, suddenly struggling to catch his breath. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier called out to him after what had felt like mere seconds but had in fact been minutes. Geralt snapped out of his trance, only then realising that Willow was still crying and that the bard was looking at him with _fear_ written all over his face. Geralt could not remember the last time Jaskier had been afraid of him. 

“Are you hurt?” Geralt asked, his voice hoarser than usual. He felt strangely parched. 

“We’re… we’re fine, I think.”

Geralt rose to his feet, assessing the damage he had dealt. When he was confident that every danger to their lives had been eliminated, the witcher finally turned to Jaskier and Willow. When the child looked up at him, her terrified screams only intensified, and she desperately tried to hide her face in the crook of Jaskier’s neck.   
Geralt would never admit that Willow’s reaction had cut him much deeper than any monster or any insult anyone could have thrown at him. 

“No, no, hey sweetheart, don’t be scared,” Jaskier tried to soothe the child, but his attempts merely earned him an annoyed wail from the child, “Willow darling, it’s ok. It’s Geralt, remember him? He saved our lives, little angel. He’s not going to hurt us.”

Only the man who had killed those beasts was not Geralt, not exactly. He was a witcher, a mutant, a butcher… a monster, trained for combat, trained to kill. This sudden realisation suddenly hit Geralt like a punch to the gut. 

“I’m going to find Roach,” Geralt declared, ignoring Jaskier’s confused pleas to stay.

“Geralt you can’t leave us here. What if there’s more out there? We need to come with you…,” Jaskier tried to argue, but Geralt needed to be alone and he was in no mood to answer the bard’s questions. 

“No, Jaskier,” he snapped, “stay here, I won’t be long.”

With these words, Geralt disappeared into the forest.

OoO

By some miracle, Roach had strayed too far away from their location, and Geralt was able to coax her back to him easily enough. The mare was still agitated and stressed, which is why Geralt deemed it wise not to let Jaskier ride her for a while until she had settled down. To his relief, Geralt could not perceive Willow’s cries anymore. He wondered how the child would react when she saw him again. Jaskier, Geralt knew, would be mad for storming off, but the witcher could not bring himself to care. He could not get the image of Willow’s terrified expression as she looked up at him out of his head. How else was she supposed to react when faced with a monster like him? Geralt was suddenly reminded of Aldred’s harsh words; _If you think I’ll be a bad father, I suggest you take a closer look in the mirror, butcher!_

Geralt had thought about children before. About a decade after he had left Kaer Morhen he had met a sorceress going by the name of Vivienne. She had enlisted his services to kill a monster guarding a treasure, including a vial of rare elixir that, according to the legend, could cure any ailments and illnesses. The sorceress had promised the elixir to a powerful widowed ruler for whom she worker, who had hoped to cure the disease that was killing his only son and heir. Geralt, as one would expect, had killed the monster and retrieved the elixir for the sorceress. He had brought it back to her and had been met with a very surprised reaction. 

“To be perfectly honest, I though you would try to make a run for it with a potion this powerful in your hands,” Vivienne had admitted, her tone betraying her admiration and something else that Geralt had not managed to identify instantly, but which had turned out to be pity, “I placed a tracking spell of you, of course, but turns out you are probably the only honest witcher out there.”

“I have no use for the elixir. I am healthy and well,” Geralt had told the sorceress, which had earned him a patronising laugh from Vivienne. 

“My dear boy, you suffer from the worst illness that could befall a young man such as yourself. You know this elixir could have cured your inability to produce children, don’t you?”

At the time, Geralt did not care about children and starting a family, and he had told the sorceress as much. However, as the years passed and Geralt grew more and more lonely, he began to wonder what might have been if he had kept that vial for himself. What if he had used it? Providing it had cured him from his infertility, would that have encouraged him to settle down and start a family, all the while ignoring his witcher identity and instincts as best as he could? For a long time, Geralt had succeeded in convincing himself that nothing would have changed, that he would not have done anything differently. 

After finding Willow in the woods, Geralt had started questioning his own convictions. If he truly did not care about children, why then was he so invested in finding this child a good – if not _perfect_ – family to spend her short life with? He could have easily left her with Aldred, or better yet, left her to die in the woods. What significant difference would that have made to _his_ life? If fatherhood was not for him, why then did he feel so protective of Willow? Why then did the sight of Jaskier taking such good care of her left him feeling _warm_ and content? If he did not care about that child, why had it hurt so much when Willow had rejected him? 

Perhaps Geralt was not ready to face the painful truth quite yet; he desperately wanted to be father, but more to the point he needed to feel useful to someone and _loved_ , and important, fulfilling his instinctive need to protect. He would have to face the music sooner or later; that monsters never made for good fathers. Never had, and never ever would. 

OoO

Geralt found Jaskier at the same place he had left him; standing among the corpses of two wolves, looking forlorn and scared, yet still finding the strength and courage to sing softly to a slightly less upset-looking Willow. Geralt instantly felt bad for abandoning Jaskier so suddenly, but the last time he had confronted the bard when angry, Geralt had not seen Jaskier for the next year or so. Ever since that day, Geralt had vowed never to argue with Jaskier again. He could not bear the thought of losing the only person who tolerated his company, and even enjoyed spending time with him. He could not lose the only person who cared about him, who loved him. 

“There you are!” Jaskier called out to him when he saw Geralt reappear out of the woods with a less than impressed Roach following him moodily, “Geralt, what the fuck happened earlier? You just left, I had no idea where you went, or if there was anything _else_ out there out to get us, and-“

Geralt interrupted Jaskier’s rambling by softly cupping his face and pressing their lips together in a loving kiss. Jaskier briefly tensed at the sudden action, but the bard was never able to resist Geralt’s touch for long. He soon melted into the kiss and returned it a touch more desperately. The only reason they both parted was because of Willow growing exceedingly impatient of being ignored. 

“Geralt…”

“I’m sorry,” the taller man whispered, keeping his forehead pressed against Jaskier’s in a desperate attempt to keep some form of physical contact going between him and Jaskier. 

“Wh-Whatever for?” Jaskier asked, his breath hitching slightly as Geralt’s hands moved from his cheeks to his hips. The witcher noticed that Willow was looking at him curiously but did not look nearly as alarmed as she had earlier. Somehow, that did not comfort him.

“I’m sorry that you’re stuck out here with the worst monster of all…”

Jaskier looked up at Geralt, incredulity evident in his eyes.

“Come again? Woah, hang on you can’t possibly believe that I see you as a monster, do you?” Geralt’s jaw tightened at those words. He did not want to admit that Jaskier’s opinion of him mattered more than the bard realised. He felt vulnerable, exposed. Jaskier interpreted his silence for what it was, acquiescence, and in response huddled closer to Geralt with a warm smile softening his features. “Geralt, listen to me. Fair enough, you can seem emotionally constipated, brutish, quiet, detached… but I think you often forget that you’re also loyal, and fair, and protective of the people you care about. You killed a wolf with your bare hands so they would not attack us. You were protecting us, Geralt!”

“And that wolf was hunting to feed his pack,” Geralt countered shortly. 

“And if that pack had been attacked by other wolves, they would have done exactly the same as you did today to save us. That’s what family does; they protect each other. Unfortunately for you, I’m better at sparring with words than I am with swords,” Jaskier joked, a nervous laugh pushing past his lips. Geralt hummed pensively, but he was not entirely convinced by the bard’s words. Willow chose that moment to let out a string of incomprehensible gurgles, which caught the attention of both Jaskier and Geralt. 

“I think she’s trying to tell us something,” Jaskier said with a fondness in his tone that Geralt had rarely witnessed, “Hey sweet angel. Everything’s going to be alright now. See? Geralt is back. We don’t have to be scared of the big bad wolves anymore.”

Willow was looking up at Jaskier with the brightest smile plastered on her face. Geralt was not sure whether she had reacted to the sound of his voice, or understood the meaning of his words, but it warmed the witcher’s heart nonetheless. Perhaps he could never be a father himself, but that did not mean that he would not do everything in his power to find Willow a good home. 

This adventure, Geralt realised, was beginning to bring forth what little humanity the witcher had left in him. Perhaps allowing himself to feel was not so bad after all. 

TBC. 


	5. Oxenfurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm finally getting to post this chapter. I'm so excited to write the last two chapters and see how you guys like them, but until theeeeen here's chapter 5. As we're nearing the end of the story, I hope that you guys enjoy this chapter as much as the others. 
> 
> Thanks again for the unconditional support you've shown this project so far. Would it be too much to ask that Jaskier comes back in season 2 and helps Yen and Geralt raise Ciri? Geraskier dads for the win!

Oxenfurt was just as Geralt remembered it; busy, loud and populated by people who thought themselves above anyone else just because they attended the renowned Oxenfurt University. He, Jaskier and Willow reached the town in the early evening. After their encounter with the wolves the previous day, Geralt had decided to make camp somewhere safe for the night and allow Jaskier and Willow to recover from their emotions. The two had slept like logs next to the fire, but Geralt had not been so lucky. Any little sound, be it the rustling of leaves in the treetops, or the whistling of the wind or the chirping of the crickets, had Geralt on high alert. He had eventually given up on the thought of resting that night and had kept watch over Jaskier and Willow until morning. They had set off towards Oxenfurt early, but after a whole day of walking including several stops to feed and change Willow, they had finally arrived at their destination. Geralt could not wait to find the nearest inn and sleep for the next twelve hours. Their mission to find Willow a family could wait another day.

The market had already shut by the time Geralt and Jaskier arrived, but a different kind of crowd filled the streets of Oxenfurt at sunset. Students, most of them holding tankards of ale or drinking out of expensive hipflasks, were gathering in small groups and socialising with one another. Troubadours, poets and street musicians came out to present their newest piece to the crowds. The most lavish among the students threw coins at the performers, others who recognised the tunes joined in with the singing. Geralt kept the hood of his black coat up, hiding his white hair under it. The last thing he wanted was to attract unnecessary attention to himself, and in turn, to Jaskier and Willow. The bard, on the other hand, looked more excited than he had in weeks. For him, this was not just about coming back to a place where his art was appreciated; it was like coming home. 

“This brings back so many memories,” Jaskier said as soon as they stepped inside their room at the Three Little Bells inn, “I used to be the one singing on the street hoping that my songs and my poetry would one day be recited across the Continent. If anyone had ever told me that I would end up travelling the Continent with a witcher and a baby, I would’ve asked them for a sip of whatever it was they were drinking.”

“Who knows, maybe this is all in your head and you’re really just drugged in an alley somewhere,” Geralt teased the bard. 

“Oh, so you’re making jokes now, too? Who are you, and what have you done with Geralt of Rivia?”

Willow interrupted their friendly banter with a high-pitched wail. She had been unbearable since waking up in the morning. She had been fussing the entire journey to Oxenfurt, and not even Jaskier’s singing had been able to soothe her to sleep. Geralt and Jaskier were exhausted and were both looking forward to a good night’s sleep in what looked like the cleanest and most comfortable bed Geralt had seen since Kaer Morhen. The witcher’s musing was interrupted by a noise that sounded a lot like a dog’s growl, but which as it turned out was Jaskier’s stomach complaining loudly about the lack of food. During her flight from the wolves, Roach had dropped most of their supplies, and the little they had managed to salvage they had fed Willow. 

“Here’s some coins, go get yourself some food and something to drink,” Geralt told more than offered Jaskier as he handed him a small leather purse. Jaskier looked unsure as he hesitantly accepted the money.

“What about you?” he asked, concern lacing his tone. Geralt merely grunted dismissively. 

“I can manage another few hours without. I’ll watch over the child, give yourself a break.”

Jaskier looked at Willow, then back at Geralt, clearly debating whether he should leave the two of them alone or not. The witcher sighed inertly at the thought that the bard was starting to be so attached to the child that leaving her for even an hour was too much to ask. 

“Go!” Geralt repeated himself, this time adopting a firmer tone, “she’ll be fine, Jaskier.”

The bard did not look convinced, but the way his stomach growled for the second time since their arrival seemed to convince him that food was probably not such a bad idea after all. He went to place a soft kiss on Willow’s forehead, promising her to be back in no time. As soon as Jaskier had shut the door behind him, Geralt made himself comfortable. He was dying for a bath, eager to scrub the dirt, grime and wolf blood off his skin and hair. That would have to wait until Jaskier was back. Until then, he decided to focus on getting Willow to sleep. She had a lot of sleep to catch up on, so Geralt was convinced that she would not last much longer. He decided to take off her dirty rags and wrap her snugly in clean blankets until they could wash her. They would have to get her proper clothes in the morning to make her seem presentable, but right now she needed to stay warm at least. 

Geralt settled on the bed with his back leaning against the wooden frame, holding Willow close to his chest and rocking her gently. As he watched with amusement as the child desperately fought sleep, he noticed a small brown stain at the back of her ear. At first, he thought it was a dirt stain, but when he failed to wipe it with the pad of his thumb, he realised that the patch was in fact a birth mark. The mark resembled no particular shape, and most people would not have given this a second thought, but Geralt could not stop staring at it. They had found Willow five or so days ago, and he was only just noticing this mark on her neck. He wondered how many other little things about the child he had not seen or refused to see since he had found her. For example, he had failed to notice that her bright blue eyes, although uncannily similar to Jaskier’s, showed specks of brown depending on the light. He had also never noticed the tiny freckles, or the button nose, or the tiny curls at the back of her neck. All these little details that made the child unique… that made her Willow. Geralt’s heart suddenly felt heavy at the thought of having to hand her over to some other family, but he kept trying to convince himself that he was merely giving her Willow best shot at life. 

When Jaskier came back to the room, he found Geralt and Willow peacefully asleep on the bed. The bard happily joined them, snuggling close to Geralt who instinctively wrapped an arm around his lover’s shoulders and pulled him closer to him. Jaskier made a mental note to remind Geralt to bathe in the morning before they went hunting for a suitable family for the little cub. 

OoO

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Geralt asked Jaskier, unable to take his eyes off the building they were standing in front of. 

“I mean, we followed the tailor’s directions to the dot… it has to be this place,” the bard argued. To say that the build looked dishevelled was an understatement. In fact, it looked like it could fall apart any minute. Geralt and Jaskier both eyed the house suspiciously. 

“Maybe that woman the tailor was talking about is planning on moving?” Jaskier offered, although his tone suggested that he was not convinced by his own words. 

“Only one way to find out,” Geralt said as he stepped up to the door and knocked on it three times. The house shook with the force of his knocks. Thankfully, they did not have to wait long before a woman with long dark hair and a round disposition greeted them. She barely reached Geralt’s chest in height, and her smile was missing a couple of teeth, but she looked friendly enough and her smile felt genuine. 

“Gentlemen, how can I be of service?”

“Uh, hi there, uh… Mr Haroldson, the tailor, told us that you lived her. We have a rather, shall we say, unusual proposal for you,” Jaskier stepped forward a little, still holding Willow close to his chest.

Geralt noticed how the tiny woman’s eyes grew wide when she saw the tiny infant in Jaskier’s arms. Her smile grew impossibly wider. 

“My dears, please come in. Far be it from my mind to turn away two handsome gentlemen such as yourselves. And who do we have here?” she cooed, this time addressing Willow. Geralt had to duck to fit through the door, and Jaskier did not look entirely comfortable either with his head nearly touching the ceiling. 

“Uh, this is Willow. We found her in the woods several days ago, and we’ve been trying to find her a good home. Mr Haroldson told me that you might be interested, Mrs…?”

“Please, call me Martha,” the woman instantly corrected him as she took Willow out of Jaskier’s arms. Geralt noticed that the bard only reluctantly let go of the child. “Hello, little Willow. Don’t you look like the sweetest thing in all the Continent? Please my dears, take a seat although I’m not sure those chairs will support your weight, Mr Witcher.”

“My reputation precedes me, it seems.”

“It’s not everyday that a witcher comes to town. Oxenfurt is a safe place, we don’t see many monsters around here, so of course you stand out like sore thumb,” Martha explained, never taking her eyes off Willow, who managed a small smile when the woman holding her tickled her chin. “What’s even more surprising is a witcher travelling with an infant.”

“Hm.”

“Forgive Geralt, he’s not much of a conversationalist,” Jaskier butted in, earning himself an irritated glare from the witcher, “interesting place you have there.”

“What, this? This is not my home. My late mother passed away a week ago, I’m merely salvaging what I can and giving the rest of her possessions to the local orphanage. I would offer you hot drinks, but I wouldn’t risk serving you anything out of these cupboards.”  
Jaskier and Geralt both let out a sigh of relief at the news, but this only raised more questions that Geralt was desperate to get off his chest. 

“Where do you live at the moment?”

“I have my own business in the city, only several streets down from this house…”

“What kind of business?”

“I don’t think that’s important for you to know, gentlemen.”

Geralt stiffened at those words. Whatever business this woman was conducting, she clearly did not like the subject brought up. Geralt knew better than anyone that those lines of work were rarely child friendly. Martha did her best not to meet his eyes, and Geralt could tell that she was not being defensive, but he could sense something else in her attitude… fear, perhaps?

“I think it is,” Geralt stubbornly argued.

“No offence, dearie, but I will not be lectured or questioned by a professional assassin.”

“Witchers aren’t assassins,” Jaskier interjected before the discussion could escalate any further, “they are trained to kill monsters, not people. Please, we only want what’s best for Willow, and believe it or not I can tell that you’re the kind of woman that would want the best for her, too. Please…”

Geralt had always admired Jaskier’s talent to get the truth out of people. His honest and good-hearted nature meant people trusted him easily, and often decided to confide in him. Geralt had yet to hear Jaskier being judgemental of anyone’s situation, and his open-mindedness was probably the reason the bard had stuck around when everyone else avoided Geralt like the plague. 

“Oh, sweetheart… I can tell that you have a heart of gold. Alright, then. I am the proud owner of the Rosebud a couple of streets away. In many ways, I am the mother of many children there. Mostly girls, but some boys too. Times are changing, and so do the desires of my clients. But I want to reassure you that I would not raise Willow to become one of my employees. You have to believe me.”

“Out of the question!” Geralt rose from his chair with a menacing look on his face, “hand her back, now!”

“Geralt, calm down,” Jaskier pleaded him, but the look the witcher shot him was enough to shut the bard up. 

“Witcher, I know that my profession gives me a bad reputation. And I believe that you know what that feels like. My boys and girls, they come from broken homes with no prospect of a better future. Destiny dealt them its shittiest cards, and they are trying to do the best with what they have. They provide solace for men in this city, they are an emotional refuge for many. I cater a different kind of clientele, wealthy men, who were raised to treat women with respect.”

“Respect?” Geralt let out a derisive snort, “You truly think wealth and high birth guarantee respect? You think you can control your clients, but you can never know for sure what happens once they close the door behind them. I have seen some women battered and covered in bruises dealt by high-ranking men of noble standing and wealthy backgrounds. No matter how much you think you can weed out the monsters among them, you can’t. Trust me, I’ve tried. It’s my job.”

“Then tell me, witcher, do you think of me as a monster?”

Geralt was taken aback by Martha’s question. No, of course she was no monster. She was a woman making a living for herself. It was not the industry that Geralt had a problem with. He had spent many a night in a brothel himself, enjoying the body of women and men when the fancy took him. He had needs like every other man, and before Jaskier, his desire to find a more permanent partner had been close to none. The monsters were those that considered pleasure workers as nothing more than objects to gratify their sexual desires. The monsters were those that ignored the human behind every prostitute they met. 

“You are not a monster,” Jaskier replied instead, breaking the silence that was beginning to stretch between them, “we just think that Willow deserves a more conventional upbringing.”

“As much as you’ll always try to protect your employees from the worst of men out there, it only ever takes out to undermine your efforts. And I won’t have this child be there the day that you mistakenly let a monster in.”

Geralt suddenly realised why Martha had avoided eye contact since her profession was brought up. It had not been out of fear, as he had initially thought; it was out of shame. He could tell that his words had struck a sensitive chord in the woman. For several long minutes, all that could be heard was the house creaking as the wind picked up outside. Eventually, Martha let out a heavy sigh and handed Willow back to Geralt.

“I know you might not want to listen to me on this one, but I have one family I know that would take good care of Willow. The girl was one of my former employees. Her name is Janine, and she was disowned by her father when he found out that she would never be able to have children. He knew that she would never marry, and therefore had no use for her anymore. She came to me, worked for me for many years, and one night this man came along. He was a student at the university, and his friends had paid for one of my girls’ services to celebrate his graduation. He and Janine spent the entire night in her room, and when I went to check on them in the morning, they were cuddled up together asleep on the bed. When I asked her about him after he had left, she told me that nothing happened. He was nervous, you see, it was difficult to perform. So, she reassured him, spoke to him, bathed him hoping that he would relax. Instead, he fell heads over heels for her. Two weeks later, he came back for her. Proposed, offered me a considerable sum in cash, his entire savings. I refused the money and sent her away with him. Best decision I have ever made.”

Geralt glanced at Jaskier, who seemed hooked by the tale, and the soft smile that appeared on his lips as Martha shared the happy ending was endearing. Jaskier had always been a romantic at heart, Geralt knew that. No doubt he would write a ballad about Janine and her mystery knight in shining armour. 

“That’s such a lovely story. Where do they live now?”

“With the money he had saved up, he bought a cottage in Eldham. It’s a two-day ride from here. I know she’ll take good care of Willow. They are both good people, gentlemen. You’ll have to take my word on this.”

Geralt and Jaskier shared a look, and they did not need to speak to know that this option was better than leaving Willow with Martha to grow up in a whorehouse. Jaskier was quick to take Willow from the witcher and then thanked Martha for her time, apologised profusely for getting her hopes up, before leaving. Geralt acknowledged the woman one last time with a curt nod and followed the bard into the busy streets of Oxenfurt. 

Geralt did not know why his heart suddenly felt heavy, nor why his throat tightened uncomfortably.

TBC.  



	6. Until We Meet Again

“Do you think they’re good people?” Jaskier asked out of the blue, huddling closer to his lover as the cold wind chilled him to the bone. Willow was safely nestled in Geralt’s lap, seemingly unbothered by the frosty weather as she snored away peacefully.

“Who?”

“That couple in Eldham… do you think they’re good people?”

Geralt stared into the fire, pondering the question briefly. They had not had much luck so far finding the right family for Willow, but somehow this time, it felt different. Clearly Jaskier could feel it too, or the bard would not be asking him that question with evident worry noticeable in his tone.

“We’ll find out soon enough. You know that we’ll have to let Willow go eventually, do you?”

Jaskier heaved a sigh, and the only reason Geralt tore his gaze away from the fire was to check that the bard had not fallen asleep on him. Jaskier was still awake, but unusually quiet. His long fingers played with one of Willow’s small curls, causing the infant to twitch in her sleep. Geralt hated when Jaskier was quiet.

“We don’t have to let her go…,” the bard eventually suggested, his voice small and tentative, almost as if he feared that speaking the words too loudly would destroy every last ounce of hope he had left in his heart. Geralt’s heart skipped a beat.

“You know we can’t keep her,” was all the witcher could say.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Do you want me to list all hundred reasons?”

Jaskier moved away from Geralt and swivelled his upper body so that he was able to stare directly into his lover’s eyes. There was no sign of the bard’s familiar jovial expression that Geralt had grown accustomed to. Instead, Jaskier’s eyes were set on the witcher, unwavering, determined even, burning with the fire of a man who had nothing to lose.

“I would like you to give me _one_ good reason to give her to those strangers who know nothing about her. We spent the past week looking after her, feeding her, protecting her and changing her dirty nappies. She’s become attached to us, Geralt! We’ve become her parents.” Jaskier argued, trying in vain not to raise his voice as he spoke these last words.

“She’s an infant, she’ll get attached to anyone who keeps her fed and warm. I told you this would happen, I specifically asked you not to get attached!” Geralt snapped back at the bard. He forgot about the sleeping infant in his arms, and neither he nor Jaskier noticed her opening her eyes and staring quizzically between them.

“Don’t put this on me, you’re just as attached as I am! You don’t have to pretend to be the tough, emotionless witcher. It’s _me_ , Geralt! I _know_ you have feelings, and I know that you’re just as reluctant to give her away than I am. Why won’t you admit it!”

Jaskier had risen to his feet and was now looking down at Geralt as he spoke, arms spread wide in frustration and breathing heavily as he tried to contain his anger. The witcher allowed the bard a minute to calm down. The last thing he wanted was for this discussion to turn into a fight. Finally, Jaskier closed his eyes and took a composing breath before addressing Geralt again.

“Geralt, you once told me that you thought about having a family before. Even without your mutations, biology would have made it impossible for us to ever have children naturally. Maybe this is a sign from Destiny. Maybe finding Willow was the universe’s way of giving us our chance at a family?”

“We can’t subject the child to a life on the road, chasing monsters and not knowing when our next meal will be. That would be selfish,” Geralt argued calmly, evening his voice to hopefully make Jaskier listen to reason.

“We don’t have to live like this. We could go to the coast, get away for a while. Get a cottage, I’ll write poetry, you’ll go fishing. We’ll teach Willow how to read and write. I’ll show her how to play the lute, we’ll write songs together that we’ll sing to you when you come back home in the evening. As she gets older, she’ll get bored of her singing lessons, so she’ll beg you to teach her how to use a sword and show her magic tricks. When I discipline her, she’ll run to you for comfort, and when you’re away we’ll both cuddle in bed, waiting for you to return. Life could be so easy, Geralt. We would be happy, just the three of us. Look me in the eye and tell me that this is not exactly what you were hoping for when you spoke about having your own family…”

Geralt did not look at Jaskier. How could he when those eyes held so much power over him? The witcher was tempted to take Jaskier up on his offer. What did he have to lose? The bard was right, this was perhaps Geralt’s only chance to ever have a family of his own. Back when Geralt started his training to become a witcher, and back to when he had to undergo his first series of mutations, he had been too young to realise the consequences of these transformations on his biology. By the time he had completed his training and mutated fully, Vezemir had told him that children were off the table, but Geralt had not cared then. He had no desire for children, or a family at this point in his life. All he wanted was to go out into the world and kill monsters, not realising how lonely the life of a witcher truly was. People did not thank him for his services, they ran away screaming, they _feared_ him. Men and women avoided him like the plague, and the only intimate moments he enjoyed with anyone that was not his right hand usually only took place in return for coins. Children eyed him suspiciously, or cried, or ran back to their mothers for safety.

Jaskier and Willow had been exceptions, but as humans their time on earth was ephemeral. Geralt would inevitably outlive them. After that, he would have no one left. He would go back to be the feared witcher, an outcast of society. Exceptions like Jaskier and Willow only happened once in a lifetime, and Geralt’s lifetime was a lot longer than most men’s.

“Get some rest, Jaskier. We have a long day ahead tomorrow.”

Geralt still refused to look at Jaskier, knowing that he would only see hurt and disappointment reflected in the bard’s far too expressive eyes. Geralt could not bring himself to agree to this fantasy. He would never make a good father. He would not adjust well to a sedentary life, which meant that he would be away hunting monsters often. How was that fair on Jaskier, or on Willow? Geralt would merely be a shadow in their lives passing through whenever he had some time between hunts. Jaskier’s dream life, although idyllic, was nothing more than a disillusioned fantasy.

Geralt was only trying to protect Jaskier from a lifetime of disappointment and pain. Why could the bard not see this?

The next day, neither Geralt nor Jaskier spoke a word as they headed to Eldham.

OoO

“Slow down, Roach,” Geralt gently instructed the mare as they reached Eldham. It was a small place where everyone knew everyone, the kind of place where people were wary of strangers. Geralt could feel more than see the fearful looks aimed at him, he heard some women talk about him in hushed whispers.

“A witcher, in these parts?”

“Witchers carry two swords at all times; a silver one for monsters and an iron one for humans.”

“Freaks they are, the lot of them.”

“He’s Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken…”

Geralt ignored them. He scanned the area for a friendly face, but the villagers were all starting to return into the safety of their homes. No one seemed to notice the small child nestled in Jaskier’s arms, and for that Geralt was grateful. While he could stomach their insults, he knew that Jaskier would be quicker to defend his and Geralt’s honours. The last thing they needed was to cause a scene in the middle of the village. One person had yet to evade Geralt’s presence; an elderly villager, sitting on a chair outside his house and carving what looked to be a fox out of a block of wood. Geralt walked up to him, clearing his throat when he was close enough to alert the villager of his presence.

“Good morning to you, sir. How may I be of assistance to you?” the elderly man asked Geralt, his tone friendly and jovial. Geralt would have returned the favour were he not in a hurry to leave this place as soon as possible.

“I’m looking for two people who live around here, a couple” Geralt explained in a neutral tone, “the woman goes by the name Janine.”

“Ah yes, Janine and Dmitri. What do you want with them?”

“It’s personal. I was sent by one of Janine’s old friends.”

The man stopped his carving and eyed Geralt suspiciously. Geralt held his gaze as he waited patiently for an answer.

“You’re not going to hurt them, are you witcher?”

“I promise you, hurting them is the furthest from my mind. Here,” Geralt unstrapped both his swords from his back and placed them carefully at the elderly man’s feet, “as a token of my honesty. I’ll come get those back after I’ve spoken to Janine and Dmitri.”

The man leaned back in his chair as he eyed Geralt suspiciously. Jaskier had stayed behind, petting Roach’s neck soothingly as he observed the scene from afar. The elderly villager’s eyes fell on the bard, who shot him a friendly smile and waved.

“That man, is he your friend?”

“He is,” Geralt replied shortly.

“And the child?”

Geralt cast a glance over his shoulder, noticing the way Willow was grinning at Roach as the mare nudged her playfully and licked her tiny hand. Jaskier was too focused on the child in his arm to notice Geralt looking at them. The bard was letting Willow feed Roach some apple slices out of the palm of her hand. The infant squealed in glee when she felt the horse’s tongue lap at her open palm.

“The child is what we would like to speak to Janine and Dmitri about.”

The elderly villager rose from his chair and put his knife down next to Geralt’s weapons. The witcher guessed that the man wanted to show his willingness to cooperate by surrendering his weapon, too. The villager cleared his throat and extended his hand in greeting.

“My name is Harold. I apologise for my rudeness, but you must understand that we are not accustomed to your kind in our village. We haven’t had any monsters lurking in our woods for decades. Last instance I remember was a ghoul’s nest when I was a wee lad. One of your kind was called to the village and destroyed the nest in a matter of hours.”

“I’m not here to kill monsters, Harold. We only want to speak to Janine and Dmitri, and after that we’ll be on our way.”

The elderly man seemed to relax at those words, and he even managed a soft smile as he watched Jaskier and Willow fuss over Roach, who seemed to enjoy the attention she was getting. Geralt’s stomach twisted uncomfortably at the sight. He wondered if Jaskier would ever forgive him.

“I’ll lead you to their cottage, but if you touch a single hair on Janine and Dmitri’s heads, I will hunt you down, witcher or not.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Geralt admitted, not tearing his eyes from Jaskier and Willow. The bard looked up at that exact moment, his smile vanishing when his eyes met Geralt’s. The witcher pretended the action did not hurt him as much as it did.

“I know many people here don’t trust your kind, but the one I seen as a wee lad was kind albeit a bit rough around the edges. There are rumours out there that witchers steal young boys to be trained in that special school of theirs. There are also rumours that one of them swords is meant to be for humans only. Luckily for you, witcher, I never thought much of rumours myself. Follow me.”

Harold led the way to Janine and Dmitri’s cottage, seemingly unbothered by the dirty stares the villagers were giving him. They had left Roach to graze by the elderly man’s house but judging by Willow’s whines of protest she would have much rather spent more time with the horse. The child most likely did not understand that this would be the last time she saw Roach, and Geralt had no way of explaining this to her, either. Perhaps it was for the best that Willow would not remember them. If only there was a way for Jaskier and Geralt to forget about her as easily as she would forget about them.

They reached a small, but cosy looking cottage several minutes later. Harold went to knock on the door, and Geralt let him. The couple would likely be more inclined to speak to a friendly face than they would to a witcher. The door opened to reveal a young woman with yellow blonde hair and bright green eyes. Judging by the state of her apron and the specks of white powder adorning her cheeks, they had interrupted Janine’s cooking.

“Harold? What are you doing here?”

“So sorry to bother you, Janine, but these gentlemen would like a word,” Harold stepped aside revealing Jaskier, Willow and Geralt to Janine. The young woman looked surprised, but credit where it was due, she did not look as fearful as the other villagers had. Even when she caught sight of Geralt’s white hair and wolf medallion, she did not flinch or slam the door in their faces.

“We spoke to Martha in Oxenfurt. She told us that you lived here,” Geralt provided, hoping that Janine remembered her former employer kindly. At the mention of Martha’s name, Janine’s features seemed to soften despite the young woman looking as confused as ever.

“Did something happen to her? Is she in trouble?”

“No, she’s not. We went to her for help with an unconventional issue, and she thought you would be a better fit to help us.”

Willow chose this exact moment to voice her presence. The infant was babbling incomprehensibly at a butterfly hovering inches above her face. Her pudgy hand tried to grab it, but the insect was ever so slightly faster than her and managed to dodge the attack. Instead, it came to rest on Jaskier’s wrist briefly, allowing Willow to inspect it more closely. Geralt noticed the shock on Janine’s face.

“May we come in?” he asked politely, but before Janine could reply, another voice could be heard from inside the house.

“Sweetheart, who is it?”

A man, slightly shorter than Geralt, appeared in the doorframe. His arm came to rest around Janine’s waist protectively as he eyed their visitors silently.

“Gentlemen, how can we assist you?”

“They say Martha sent them,” Janine explained as she rested her eyes on Willow again, “what’s her name?”

“Willow,” Jaskier said, speaking for the first time since their arrival in Eldham. He smiled tentatively at the young woman and angled Willow so that Janine could take a better look at her. Geralt noticed Janine’s pursed lips and misty eyes.

“We were told you and your husband would make a good family for her. Martha only had good things to say about you,” Jaskier told her, his eyes set on Willow.

Dmitri looked at Geralt and Jaskier like they were the answer to all his worries and sufferings, while Janine merely admired the small infant in Jaskier’s arms from a distance. To Geralt’s surprise, the bard handed the infant over to her, but Janine looked unsure.

“I… I don’t know what to say. Why us?”

“Martha told us about your… infertility,” Jaskier began, his tone kind and empathic, “just see it as Destiny’s way of making up for mother nature’s mistake. Personally, I can’t think of anyone more deserving to be a mother than someone who was denied that right at birth.”

“You mean that you would like _us_ to take her in?” Dmitri asked in a hushed tone, almost as if he could not believe his luck. Geralt noticed Jaskier’s hesitation, and there was so much that was left unsaid in that split second.

“We just want what’s best for her. Geralt here found her in the woods alone, cold and hungry. All I wish for her is to be taken in by loving parents who will make her feel cherished, and wanted, and safe. It doesn’t take a fortune teller to know that you two will be the best parents Willow could ever dream of.”

Geralt knew how much determination it had taken Jaskier to say these words out loud, and the witcher could not help but admire his lover’s courage. Sometimes, bravery was not about fighting monsters, wielding swords and using magic. Bravery could be observed in the smaller, everyday deeds. Like in the way Jaskier stood up for Geralt whenever someone insulted him, or in the bard’s stubborn determination to follow his witcher to the end of the worlds and back no matter what kind of monstrosities they encountered along the way. Jaskier would have happily accepted the role of father to Willow even though he had no idea how to be a parent. Some things could not be taught at any university, yet Jaskier had not shied away from the challenge. He would have given up a life of adventure in the blink of an eye to dedicate himself wholeheartedly to raising Willow, where Geralt had been to scared to get attached to her because he worried that she would grow to hate him, like everyone he had ever cared about.

In many more ways than one, Jaskier was far braver than Geralt could ever hope to be.

“Thank you,” Dmitri breathed out, his voice trembling as he gladly accepted Willow into his arms. Janine’s cheeks were stained with happy tears, and her smile grew tender as she watched her husband hush the agitated infant softly. Geralt noticed that Dmitri looked at Willow with the same love and adoration that Jaskier had displayed every minute since Geralt had found the infant in the woods.

In that moment, Geralt knew they had made the right decision. Willow was in good hands.

“Could I… could I leave this with you?” Jaskier asked suddenly as he took an envelope out of his coat pocket and handed it to Janine, “I wrote this for Willow. I… I thought that one day she might want to know how she came to be yours. If you don’t want to give her the letter, that’s okay. I would understand if you’d rather shield her from the truth. But if you decide to tell her the full story, could you please give this to her?”

Janine and Dmitri looked at each other for a brief instant as they considered the bard’s request, but it did not take them long to reach a conclusion.

“We would be honoured to tell Willow all about the bard and the witcher who saved her life and brought her to us. When she’s older, I promise you we will give this to her.”

Jaskier looked relieved but devastated at the same time. Geralt felt like he had to comfort the bard somehow, but he knew that nothing he could do or say in that moment would make it any easier for Jaskier to leave the infant. Geralt wondered if Jaskier mentioned him at all in the letter he had written Willow, or if he had decided to leave him out of it because he felt like Geralt did not care enough to be included in Willow’s story.

“You are most generous,” Jaskier told Janine. The bard’s own eyes were misty as he kissed Willow’s forehead one last time. “Could you sing her to sleep? She loves being sung to sleep. Apples are her favourite, but she likes any type of berry, too. If you have animals, she loves being around them. She has a gentle touch and doesn’t startle easily.”

“We’ll keep all of this in mind,” Janine assured Jaskier as she took his hand in her slender one, “may the gods bless you. You are a good man with a kind soul. You and your friend are good people, and we will never forget your kindness and generosity.”

Unexpectedly, Jaskier pulled Janine into a tight hug and buried his face in her hair, no doubt to hide the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. Geralt remained silent as he watched Willow wiggle happily in Dmitri’s arms. Her blue eyes came to rest on him, and she smiled. Her small hands reached out for him, and before Geralt realised what he was doing, he stepped closer to Dmitri and softly stroked Willow’s brown curls one last time.

“Take good care of her,” Jaskier pleaded more than asked the couple, “and treat her kindly.”

Without another word, Jaskier turned around and headed back for Roach. Geralt noticed him wiping his eyes angrily, and the sight broke the witcher’s heart. He parted with the couple and thanked Harold for his patience.

Then Geralt too turned away from Willow, never to look back again.

TBC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that one hurt like a bitch...
> 
> But good news for you guys is that there is one. more. chapter. left. Many things can happen in one chapter. 
> 
> I know I was very mean with this chapter, but I hope you guys are not too mad at me. I'll get the last chapter uploaded as soon as possible because I would hate to keep you guys hanging for too long.
> 
> As always, thank you for the support you've shown me and my work. It truly means so much to me that so many people interact with this fic. Your comments are all much appreciated! I am always overwhelmed by the reactions. Although this chatper, I am expecting a lot of pissed off readers... that's showbiz, baby!


	7. Epilogue

_10 years later_

Geralt finished tying up the kikimora to Roach’s saddle, making sure the beast was securely attached before throwing a large blanket over the carcass so as to not alarm anyone on the way back to the village. The baron of Velen had promised him a generous reward if Geralt managed to kill the beast terrorising the small Temerian province. This would be his last mission before heading back to his and Jaskier’s shared home on the coast. Three years ago, Geralt had finally given in to Jaskier’s wish to move to the coast and settle down. Although the bard loved this quiet and comfortable lifestyle, Geralt had not adapted so easily to a sedentary life. He had lasted a whole year in the cottage before admitting to Jaskier that he missed killing monsters too much. The bard had been understanding, far too understanding as usual. If Geralt was unhappy, then Jaskier did not want to hold him back. So, the witcher had hit the road again with the promise of coming back to his lover every two months at the latest.

The truth was that Jaskier had never been the same since they had left Willow in Eldham. His songs and poetry became more nostalgic, his eyes seemed to have lost their sparkle and his smile was never the same again. The Jaskier Geralt had known before Willow – full of colour, and love, and life – had changed ever so subtly. He only ever seemed to come to life again when Geralt was there, like a flower blooming in spring. However, when the witcher left him sometimes for weeks on end, Jaskier would retreat back into himself, he would not speak, he would barely look at Geralt as the witcher bid him farewell with the promise of returning to him as soon as possible. Jaskier resented him, that much was clear, but he was always there when Geralt returned. Whether it was because he had nowhere else to go, or because his love for the witcher made him blind to his true feelings, Geralt did not know nor did he care.

It was selfish of him really, but the thought of Jaskier leaving had become his worst nightmare.

This time, Geralt vowed to make his visit as long as possible and spoil Jaskier until the bard had no doubts left in his mind as to Geralt’s feelings for him. His plan was to get back to Jaskier in time for his birthday. The bard would turn forty shortly, and with some of the coin the baron had promised Geralt he had decided to buy Jaskier a new lute from Novigrad on his way back. The gift would not make up for a month and a half of absence, but it would certainly bring a smile to Jaskier’s face. Geralt would do anything these days to see the bard happy, or to hear the sound of his laughter again.

Sometimes, Geralt wondered how different things would have been had they decided to keep Willow all these years ago, or if Geralt’s absence would have weighed on him even more knowing that he had to provide for a child on his own. Although Geralt had tried to convince himself for ten years that he had made the right decision, his conviction was slowly faltering to the point that one of his biggest regrets was that he had been too scared to keep Willow when he had the chance. _Guilt_. It had been eating away at Geralt for ten years, and not one day went by where Geralt did not wonder how Willow was doing, if she was happy, if she was safe… He often had to resist the temptation to ride back to Eldham and check on Willow, but he knew that this would be too risky. Still, Geralt felt like he owed it to Jaskier to find out what became of her, and if she was safe.

A sudden noise caught Geralt’s attention which sent his senses in overdrive as he came to a sudden stop. Roach let out an annoyed snort as her master pulled on her reigns unexpectedly. Geralt patted her head in apology as he scanned the woods for anything suspicious. His superhuman hearing picked up the sounds of deer grazing nearby, and of owls hooting in the distance. The rustling of leaves and the whistling of the wind revealed nothing unusual. Everything seemed calm and peaceful around him.

That’s when he heard the sound again, like a faint whimper in the distance. Intent on finding the source of the noise, Geralt tied Roach to a nearby tree and let his senses guide him into the dark the forest. The further he walked through the maze of trees, the clearer the noise became. The whimpers soon turned more agitated and very soon Geralt recognised the sound for what it actually was; human sobbing. Not letting his guard down yet, Geralt wandered further into the woods until he noticed a hunched figure on the ground, back pressed against a tree and knees pulled close to a quivering chest. Long dark curls hid the human’s face as the sobs intensified. The human – a girl judging by the length of her hair and the dirty dress she wore – shivered from the cold.

The scene was altogether too familiar, but Geralt pushed the painful memories away as he crouched a safe distance away from the young human.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” Geralt spoke as gently as his gruff voice allowed, causing the child before him to flinch and whimper in fear this time. Her blue eyes widened as she desperately tried to scramble away from him. Geralt did not move from his crouched position and raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you. What’s your name, little one?”

The girl’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as she grabbed a kitchen knife out of her bag and pointed it shakily at Geralt. The sight was at once amusing and endearing, but the witcher knew better than to laugh at the scared child. He had a feeling that she would not give up her name easily either, so he decided to try a different approach.

“I heard your cries and thought I’d check on you. Are you hurt?”

The girl still did not utter a word, instead trying to stand up quickly so she could prepare herself to run. Geralt was confident that he would catch up with her easily, but as she rose to her feet the witcher noticed the child wince in pain as she put weight on her right ankle. She must have sprained it.

“Your ankle… I can take a look at it for you? I have ointments and bandages in my bag. You would just have to follow me to my horse.”

“I’m fine,” the child said, her voice stern but Geralt could hear the slight tremor in her tone. She was scared, suspicious of strangers and a flight risk. The witcher had a feeling that the child was not lost as he had initially believed, but rather on the run from something. Or someone, more likely.

“You can barely put weight on your ankle. It looks painful to just stand on it,” Geralt remarked, but the girl would not budge. As if to prove a point, she stood firmly on both her feet and stared straight in Geralt’s eyes as she raised her kitchen knife higher, daring him to come closer. She was both stubborn and brave for a girl her size. Then again, there was a fine line between bravery and stupidity.

“I said, I’m fine. Leave me alone, or I’ll stab you!” she threatened Geralt, who merely raised an eyebrow at her words.

“With that letter opener? Sure, be my guest.”

The girl did not make a move. Her confidence seemed to melt away as Geralt rose to his full height and looked down at her with his piercing amber eyes. The child tried to take several steps back, but she only managed to trip over her own feet and let out a loud yelp of pain. Geralt did not make a move to help her, nor did he use her clumsiness to his advantage. Instead, he stared at her with a small smirk on his lips as she sighed heavily in resignation.

“You promise you won’t hurt me?” she asked in a small voice that made Geralt’s heart clench in his chest.

“Only if you promise not to stab me…”

The child hesitated briefly before sliding her knife back into her bag. The witcher took several tentative steps towards her and extended his hand to help her rise to her feet. Deciding that it would be easier to carry her back to Roach, Geralt grabbed the child under her armpits and lifted her off the ground. She instinctively wrapped her skinny arms around his neck and held onto him securely as he walked them both back through the forest. When they reached Roach, the mare whinnied in what Geralt recognised as irritation at being left alone in the woods, carrying the stinking corpse of a kikimora on her back.

“Sorry girl, I’ll quickly have to take care of this before we can get moving again.” Geralt told the mare as he tapped her flank affectionately. He noticed that the child was looking at him with curious eyes.

“You talk to your horse?” she asked him, her tone inquisitive rather than mocking.

“I do. Roach is my only friend when I travel.”

“I used to speak to my dog, too. The people in my village thought I was crazy, but I swear my dog understood me.”

Geralt smiled at those words. Gently, he lowered to the ground and extended her right leg to take a closer look at the swollen ankle.

“Animals are more intelligent than a lot of people give them credit for,” Geralt said pensively as he went to rummage through his bag for ointments and bandages.

“My dog learned three commands. He could sit, lie down and attack.”

“Attack, eh?” Geralt returned to the child and sat on the ground facing her. He rubbed some ointment between his fingers to warm the thick paste up before carefully massaging it into the child’s skin. He recited a quick spell to numb the pain, as well.

“Yeah. My father taught our dog to attack after those men came into our house and tried to steal everything we had. They tried to hurt my mother and me, but pa told them they could take everything if they didn’t hurt us.”

Geralt frowned slightly, trying to contain his anger. Bandits had become a nuisance everywhere on the Continent to the point that Geralt worried about leaving Jaskier alone in their cottage. He had taught the bard some easy self-defence moves and had bought him a set of silver daggers from the market just in case Jaskier was ever in a position where he would have to defend himself against another man’s sword. Fortunately, the bandits seemed to clear from Jaskier and Geralt’s home, but one could never be too careful.

“When did that happen?”

The child shrugged her shoulders at the question.

“I think I was five. I can’t really remember.”

“And how old are you now?” Geralt asked the girl.

“I’m ten. So if I was five when it happened, and I’m ten now, then it happened five years ago,” she announced proudly, her smile illuminating her face as she waited for Geralt to confirm her calculations.

“Good maths,” the witcher complimented her as he wrapped a bandage snugly around her ankle, “did your father teach you how to count?”

“Yes. Every day we would sit in the evenings and he would teach me numbers. Ma taught me how to read in the mornings. I could read by myself when I was six.”

“That is very impressive for a girl your age.” Geralt smiled at the way the girl’s chest puffed out at the praise. “Where are your parents now?”

Geralt finished bandaging up the child’s ankle, pretending not to notice the uncomfortable silence that had suddenly settled between them. He knew that pressuring an answer out of the child would amount to nothing, so instead he stood up and went to put his supplies back in his bag. He grabbed two apples out of the bag, fed one to Roach, and offered the second one to the still silent girl. She eyed the fruit suspiciously, but her stomach’s loud rumbling betrayed how hungry she was. She eventually accepted the offering and bit greedily in the fruit’s juicy flesh.

“Are you lost, too?” she asked Geralt out of the blue, still not looking at him as she all but inhaled the apple.

“No. I’m heading to Velen, then to Novigrad. After that, I’ll be heading back to the coast.”

“What are you doing in all these places?”

“I need to speak with the baron in Velen, then I need some supplies from Novigrad, and then I’m heading back home to the coast.”

 _Home._ Home had never been a place for Geralt until he had met Jaskier. They could be living in the darkest back alley of the worst shit hole in all the Continent, and he would still look forward to return to Jaskier. Not that the girl needed to know that.

“I don’t have a home anymore,” the child finally admitted, her voice soft and sad. Geralt sat down next to her on the ground so that he had his arm pressed against her tiny frame. She was a skinny child, and small for a ten-year-old. Geralt half expected the child to shy away from his touch, but instead he felt her lean into his personal space. “My village was attacked by men with swords. I think they wanted to steal from us again, but this time there were more of them. My da told me and ma to run away, but ma got caught by one of the men. I got away because I was a lot faster. Ma shouted at me to run and not look back, so that’s what I did. I don’t know if they’re still alive.”

Geralt did not say anything. He did not want to offer comfort where he knew that the chances of the child’s parents still being alive were slim. By the sounds of it, the bandits had returned and ransacked the village. They would not have taken many prisoners.

“Where are you from?” Geralt asked.

“Eldham… what about you?” the girl asked innocently in return, not noticing the way Geralt’s breath hitched in his throat. If Eldham was attacked, that meant that Willow was potentially in danger… or already dead. The thought made Geralt sick to his stomach. The witcher did not realise how long he had been silent for until the child tugged at his sleeve in an attempt to get his attention. “Are you okay, sir?”

“Eldham…”

“You’re from Eldham, too?” the child asked, incredulity lacing her tone. Geralt realised his mistake and merely shook his head.

“No, no I just… I recognised the place, that’s all. I was there, a long time ago.”

The child looked up at him with curious blue eyes, clearly expecting a story out of Geralt. However, that was the furthest thing from the witcher’s mind as he felt panic take a hold of him. He tried to calm his racing heart, but the more he thought about the implications of bandits ransacking Eldham, the more difficult it became not to jump to the conclusion that Willow might have got hurt, kidnapped or killed by those monsters. The panic that took a hold of him was replaced by a blind rage and a determination to find the men responsible and make the pay for what they did to that village.

“Will you help me? I need to find someone. My ma gave me this letter before we fled the house, but I don’t know how to find the person who wrote it. If you know where you’re going, maybe you could tell me where to go, too.”

Geralt turned his head to face the child, trying not to let his rage show so as to not frighten her. She stared at him with the innocence only a child could muster. For the first time since finding her, Geralt managed to get a proper look at her. The paleness of her skin only made the freckles on the bridge of her nose stand out more. Her dark curls were caked in mud and tangled. She absent-mindedly brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and that’s when Geralt saw it.

A birth mark.

“Impossible…,” Geralt whispered to himself.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” the child exclaimed in an accusatory tone as she rummaged through her bag and fished out an envelope which she handed to Geralt with a smug smile plastered on her face, “see!”

Geralt took the envelope in his hands, noticing that whoever had written had failed to put a name on the envelope. The witcher’s hands shook as he flipped the envelope over and pulled the letter out. He swallowed thickly as he unfolded the parchment and began reading the all too familiar handwriting.

_My sweet Willow,_

_You’re probably wondering who I am. Why do I know your name, although you’ve never met me before? I will try to answer this question in these next few lines._

_Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz, but people usually call me Jaskier. I am a travelling bard and my job is to make people feel good through my songs and poetry. Perhaps by the time you read this letter, you might have heard and be familiar with some of my work. I won’t blame you if you aren’t._

_Back to the point. You will find I get easily distracted. I’m not sure how much your parents have told you, so I will start from the beginning. Your story begins ten years ago, when Geralt and I found you alone, shivering and scared in the woods. That reminds me that I haven’t introduced Geralt to you yet. He’s not much of a conversationalist, and he’s a little rough around the edges, but he has a heart of gold. He was the one that found you, and he’s also the reason that you ended up with the people who raised you instead of growing up in an orphanage._

_We decided to find you a loving family, but that was not as easy as we made it out to be. The families we did find were not suitable and we deemed that they would not have made you happy. Travelling with a baby that we had to feed and clothe, keep warm and content was difficult enough without having to fight off a pack of wolves that followed us into the woods. Without Geralt, I would not be alive to write this letter and you would most likely not be alive to read it. Despite all these complications, nothing could have prepared me for the hardest trial of my life._

_Geralt warned me not to get attached, but I think we were both guilty of exactly that by the time we brought you to Eldham. It was in fact Geralt who named you, despite his own wise words of caution. I was determined to keep you if the family in Eldham turned out to be unsuitable once again. Geralt was not as enthusiastic. Don’t judge him too harshly. I have come to know him better than most people do. What you need to know about Geralt is that he keeps his cards close to his chest. He was trying to do what was best for you, and he was also trying to spare me the pain of having to let you go. Geralt is wise, and I should’ve listened to him when I had the chance._

_Without him, you would not have a home. Destiny brought him into your life, and the same destiny took you away from us. What a cruel universe we live in._

_If you’re reading this letter, I want you to know that I don’t expect you to seek us out. I would understand if you didn’t. However, should you choose to do so, I cannot guarantee where Geralt and I will end up, or if we will still be travelling together by that point. You will probably find Geralt easier to track down. I would suggest heading to Novigrad or Oxenfurt and ask for the witcher Geralt of Rivia. He wears a wolf medallion around his neck and carries two swords on his back. When you find him, show him this letter; he will understand._

_Farewell for now._

_Jaskier._

Geralt read the letter over and over, trying to ignore the way his throat tightened uncomfortably at the words on the page. Clearly Jaskier had expected Willow to be much older when she received this letter, but life had not been kind to the child. Geralt’s amber eyes glanced at the young girl next to him, with the familiar blue eyes, and the freckles, and the birth mark on her neck. She looked at him quizzically. Without a word, Geralt handed the girl the letter back and slowly pulled his witcher necklace over his head. The child’s eyes followed the silver medallion dangling from the string with her eyes and Geralt noticed her eyes go wide as she recognised the depiction.

“A wolf medallion…,” she whispered in a mesmerised voice. Her eyes met Geralt’s again, this time all trace of fear gone. “Are you Geralt of Rivia?”

Geralt nodded, not trusting his own voice. The girl looked at loss for words herself, and for a long while, the two merely stared at each other in silence. Geralt started to believe that destiny had a funny sense of humour indeed.

“What about Jaskier? Where is he?” Willow asked in a small voice.

“He’s at home,” Geralt replied with a fond smile. Willow suddenly seemed sheepish.

“I have nowhere else to go. I don’t know where I’m going, and I’m scared,” she admitted, speaking plainly for the first time since Geralt had found her. He helped the girl rise to her feet and guided her to Roach, lifting her on top of the mare’s saddle.

“You don’t have to be scared anymore, cub. You’re safe now.”

Geralt’s heart melted when he saw the bright smile on the girl’s face. Roach whinnied almost as if she recognised the young girl on her back. Geralt would not put it past the old mare; Roach had always been very perceptive.

“We’re going to get some coin from Velen, and then we’ll ride to the coast.”

With a bit of luck, Geralt would get back to Jaskier just in time for his birthday. He could not wait to see the look on the bard’s face when he and Willow were reunited.

OoO

The putrid stench of the rotting fish carcasses and the harsh tang of seaweed washed up on the shore mingled with the more familiar salty smell that Geralt had grown accustomed to. The overwhelming odours were his first indication that he was close to home, and he could feel his stomach twist in anticipation as he came closer and closer to seeing Jaskier again. Although the bard would no doubt expect a present from Geralt on his return, nothing could ever prepare the bard for the surprise his lover had in store for him. It was close to midday when Geralt and Willow arrived at the town gates. The young girl took in the sights with childlike wonder. She had admitted to Geralt on the way that she had never left Eldham before. The great wide world was still full of mysteries for her, and Geralt had been more than happy to teach her about it. Of course, he left out the darker details for another time. Willow had gone through a traumatic event, losing her parents and everything she had ever known in a matter of seconds. Geralt felt she deserved a break from it all.

“It smells funny here,” Willow declared as she scanned the area from her raised position on Roach.

“The fishermen must have returned with their catch. We’ll pass the market on our way to the cottage.”

Geralt was wearing a hood out of habit, but people in this corner of the world seemed to get on with their day and not worry about him too much. Perhaps it was because he was hardly ever there, or because when he was in town he barely showed himself. People associated witchers with trouble, but whenever Geralt came back to town it was to unwind. He did not give a fuck whether the villagers knew this or just steered clear of him whenever he was around because they feared him, so long as Geralt had some peace.

The market was as busy as ever. The merchants were shouting as they tried to attract the most customers to their stands, bringing the prices lower and lower hoping they would sell the remaining of their stock for the day. People were walking away with fish the size of small children. It seemed to have been a good day for fishing.

“What does Jaskier look like?” Willow asked him as they moved away from the busy market and up a dirt path leading to a secluded area of the village near the edge of the cliff. Geralt smiled fondly at the question. Patience was clearly not her strong suit.

“You’re only a short distance away from finding out, little one.”

“Does he have a wife?”

The question took Geralt by surprise. Of course Willow would assume that Jaskier had married a woman as was expected from most men of the Continent. She had grown up in a traditional family and had never known anything else in her life. Geralt could not blame her for jumping to conclusions.

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

Willow was satisfied with that answer, and Geralt was relieved that he had successfully dodged the topic. Jaskier might not be so pleased, and they would no doubt have a conversation about this later, but Geralt could handle it. What he could not handle were the child’s incessant questions and the thought that she might reject him.

“Are we there yet?”

“Soon.”

“When’s soon?”

“Not nearly soon enough if you ask me,” Geralt mumbled to himself.

“I heard that! You’re pretty rude, you know that?”

“And you’re pretty annoying, but you don’t hear me complaining about it,” Geralt teased Willow in return, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation when he heard the dramatic intake of breath.

“You’re annoying!”

“Not nearly as annoying as you,” said Geralt with a small smirk plastered on his face.

“You’re the most annoying person in the history of annoying people!”

Just as Geralt thought of a comeback, he felt Roach nudge him in a reprimanding manner. Obviously the horse would be on Willow’s side. _Traitor_ , Geralt thought bitterly to himself as he guided the mare down the dirt path. Soon enough, the cottage he and Jaskier had shared for the past three years came into view. The cottage had been abandoned by its previous owner, the village witch or so Jaskier had been told. Everyone believed the place to be haunted, which meant that no one dared travel out that far. Jaskier and Geralt had taken residence in the cottage without experiencing much resistance from the villagers. The place overlooked the North Sea, and Geralt had witnessed some of the most breath-taking sunsets and sunrises from the cottage at the edge of the cliff. 

“This is it, little one,” Geralt announced to Willow, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he felt all his worries wash away in an instant. He was finally home.

“It’s so pretty up here!”

“It really is.”

Geralt helped Willow dismount Roach and let the tired mare graze the luscious grass at her own pace. He made sure to unsaddle her and remove the metal mouthpiece from the horse’s mouth. The first thing the mare did as she was relieved from her burdens was to roll around in the grass, her content snorts mingling to the soft rustling of the waves as they crashed way below against the rocks. Geralt welcomed the light breeze from the south. His keen ears picked up the sound of Jaskier picking the strings of his lute like he did so often when in the midst of composing his next tune.

“Geralt, is that you?” the witcher heard Jaskier’s familiar voice call out from inside the cottage. The sound of Roach’s whinnies and snorts must have caught Jaskier’s attention. Suddenly, Geralt felt Willow’s tiny hand seek his larger one. He looked down at her and noticed the way she sheepishly hid behind his bigger frame. Her wide blue eyes looked up at him with uncertainty.

“Don’t worry, little one. Remember that you’re safe now.”

She nodded wordlessly, but still refused to let go of Geralt’s hand. The witcher tightened his hold around her delicate fingers and guided her to the entrance. The door swung open just as Geralt reached it. He was met with Jaskier’s radiant smile and for a second, Geralt forgot all about Willow as he felt Jaskier’s lips crash against his in a desperate kiss.

Well, that was one way of explaining to the child why Jaskier did not have a wife.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Jaskier whispered hoarsely in Geralt’s ear, and that’s when the witcher realised that he had to stop the bard before he started undressing him before Willow’s innocent eyes.

“Jaskier, wait… there is someone I would like you to meet first,” Geralt quickly explained when he saw the crestfallen expression on Jaskier’s face. Confusion filled the far too expressive azure orbs as Jaskier’s eyebrows furrowed. Geralt gently tucked at Willow’s hand, encouraging her to step forward and show herself to Jaskier. “Come now little one, don’t be shy.”

Jaskier’s eyes went comically wide as he saw the child step from behind Geralt. Willow looked up at Jaskier shyly, manging a small smile despite sticking to Geralt’s side like glue. For the first time in forever, Jaskier was at loss for words.

“Please tell me you didn’t steal a child…,” Jaskier said after several long minutes of dumbfounded silence. Geralt merely rolled his eyes as he pulled out Jaskier’s letter to Willow from his pocket. The bard looked even more confused when he took the piece of paper from his lover and began reading the words his own hand had written ten years ago. As realisation began to dawn on Jaskier, his expression changed from confused, to shocked until his face finally settled for joy. Geralt noticed the blue eyes fill with tears when he looked up from his own letter.

“I… I don’t understand…”

“I’ll explain the details later. Until then…,” Geralt crouched next to Willow and looked up at Jaskier, “meet Willow. Willow, this is Jaskier.”

“Hi,” the girl greeted him shyly. Jaskier bit his lower lip as he fought the tears that threatened to spill. Without a word of warning, the bard sank to his knees and pulled Willow close to his chest, burying his face in her tangled and greasy hair as he hugged her like his life depended on it. The girl looked taken by surprise, but eventually returned the embrace weakly. Geralt noticed the way Jaskier’s shoulders trembled as he desperately tried to contain the flow of emotions that nearly overwhelmed him.

“I… I’m sorry,” Jaskier apologised as he pulled away from Willow, wiping his years with the back of his hand, “I just never thought I would ever see you again.”

“You smell nice,” was all Willow said in return, “like lavender. My ma loved lavender…” Willow suddenly lowered her gaze and both men watched with horror as her face contorted in grief at the memory of her mother. Since Geralt had found her in the woods, she did not have much time to mourn the death of her parents. Now that she had reached her goal, she realised that she would never see the people who had raised her ever again. Geralt understood. Albeit vaguely, he remembered the first days at Kaer Morhen and how abandoned and alone he had felt. It had taken him more than a couple of days to warm up to anyone, much less trust anyone. Vezemir had been the only person Geralt had ever truly trusted until he met Jaskier.

He hoped he could be to Willow what Vezemir had been to him. A teacher, a father… a lifeline.

“Oh sweetheart,” Jaskier exclaimed as he pulled Willow close again, “I can’t undo what was done, but I promise that you’ll lack nothing while you’re with us. You have no idea how much joy seeing you brings me. Destiny put you on our path twice, and this time I’m never letting you go.”

Geralt smiled at the scene and his heart melted when Willow all but threw herself at Jaskier as her skinny frame shook with the intensity of her sobs. Jaskier shushed her softly as he rubbed her back and let her tears stream freely down her cheeks. Geralt rose to his feet and encouraged Jaskier to do the same. The bard lifted the still crying child from the ground and carried her inside the cottage, gently soothing her sobs with the promise of warm milk and a hot bath.

Things would never be perfect, Geralt was aware of that, but they would get better. That’s all Geralt could hope for.

With a genuine smile, he followed his small family inside, shutting the door behind him.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling really emotional that this is ending, but it felt like the right place to stop... maybe. 
> 
> Happy ending it is!! I couldn't bring myself to keep those three apart. 
> 
> BUUUUUT.... I'm totally considering creating a collection of fics related to this very fic! So if any of you guys have any requests involving Geralt, Jaskier and Willow, please fire ahead in the comments and I will happily write your request out and post them in a separate collection. 
> 
> Is that something people would be interested in? Let me know! 
> 
> I love each and every single one of you for your support, comments, kudos and bookmarks. I loved this fic from start to finish. I hope you guys enjoy this last chapter! 
> 
> Lots of love,
> 
> Rose_SK xx


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